


Stuck In The Middle With You

by alexrawrmonster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Fic Facer$ Charity Auction 2019, Fic Facers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Slice of Life, Supernatural - Freeform, Whump, fic facers auction, h/c, human!Cas, human!Gabe, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexrawrmonster/pseuds/alexrawrmonster
Summary: When a necessary component for a spell to save Jack and Mary is trapped in the 1960s, what price must be paid to bring their family home?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For Moonweaver and VegasGranny, this fic would not exist without you.
> 
> Thank you both again for bidding on me for the auction, I hope you enjoy this. I enjoyed creating it.
> 
> Love, Alex

Prologue

Castiel paced the floor of the bunker, his fingers gently tracing the mapping table as he awaited the return of the Winchester brothers. A multitude of emotions flickered across his face settling on stoic and bracing for impact. The entry doors creaked open and Cas turned to watch as the boys entered, waiting with bated breath for the conversation that had yet to come. 

“Well?” he asked, refusing to look at them as they made their way down the stairs, the men reduced to the sound of their quiet footsteps as no words were shared. 

“Well,” Sam started, “I guess you could say Donatello is alive.” he said, an air of irritation and sarcasm following his words. 

“You told me not to kill him.” Cas said innocently. 

“Yeah, but Cas you turned him in,” Dean started, pausing and gesturing with frustration, “he’s braindead.” he said, pausing to let the effect of his words fall onto Castiel, “Machines keeping him breathing. What’s wrong with you?” He asked angrily, Cas paused, refusing to look at the boys in the eye as he looked around for something that wasn’t there,

“Nothing.” he finally responded, a quickness filled his breath as if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. 

“Cas-” Sam started before Cas interrupted,

“His soul was gone. He was corrupted. He was a danger to himself and to you and to all of humanity.” Cas started, Dean let out a sigh, tilting his head slightly, he swallowed and blinked as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it, Dean licked his lips as Cas continued.

“Did you know that he was working with Asmodeus?” Cas asked sincerely - frustration still taking hold in his voice, 

“What?” Sam asked, his brows lifting up in surprise, he looked to Dean, then back to Castiel, “no?” he said quietly, 

“Not by choice, but he was.” Cas said, Dean’s brow furrowed, “Some people just can’t be saved.” he said with finality.

“Yeah but who gets to make that choice? You? What exactly gives you the right?” Dean asked with an irritated frown,

“Nothing!” Cas responded, stepping forward, ”I took it, and if I hadn’t acted we would still be sitting around and talking about what to do next. We would be wasting time. And it’s time we don’t have, Dean. I told you. War is coming. War. And I did what soldiers do, now we needed the spell to open the rift, and I got it. We need four major ingredients, the grace of an archangel, a fruit from the tree of life, the Seal of Solomon, and the blood of a most holy man. The spell needs to be performed in the presence of a God or blessed by the emerald cross to work. Now we find those things, we can bring everybody home, and together we can beat Lucifer and Michael. This is the only way we win. And this is the only way we survive. It’s like you said Dean, whatever it takes.” Castiel finished, the boys remained silenced as Dean nodded gently in understanding. 

***

In the center of the room, having returned to her 1920s flapper attire, Yokoth posed as Men of Letters operative Sandy Porter stood with arms out from her borrowed torso raised to the sky as Dean lay helpless, chained to a table cemented into the Men of Letters’ bunker. Yokoth had prepared the spell to bring her partner Glythor here. 

“Insanidox Koth Munto, Glythur!” she spoke, holding the Seal of Solomon up in front of her face as a beam of purple light sprayed out of it. The light beam patched itself to the ceiling and a rift began to form. “Insanidox Koth Munto, Glythur!” she spoke again. Dean’s eyes bulged as the purple rift widened and a tentacle came pouring out, tri-pronged with suctions cups working its way out into the world. It suctioned to the table as it missed Dean’s head before returning to the air to strike again as Sam, followed by Marco and Ophelia Avila came careening into the room. Sam pulled up a pistol and quickly shot at Yokoth, who flew back towards the wall. Dean watched helplessly from the table, as what he could only perceive as Glythor slithered around his body seeking possible points of entry. 

“She has the Seal of Solomon!” Ophelia cried out as Yokoth sprang a tentacle from her mouth to attack the Avila siblings, knocking them both down in the process. Sam tackled Yokoth, pinning her briefly against a table before she once again began pouncing with her tentacle, throwing Sam onto the floor. 

“You can’t kill me!” Yokoth screeched at Sam as Dean desperately worked to unlock the bindings holding him in place. Dean grunted as he unlocked the binding on his right arm. In one swift motion Dean grabbed the Seal from around Yokoth’s neck and threw it to Ophelia,

“Panto Koth Munto!” She spoke, raising it to the ceiling, the Seal lit up once again as Glythor slowly was sucked back into his own universe, grabbing Yokoth in his grasp and pulling her through the rift with as she struggled to remain. With a scream, Yokoth, Sandy and Glythor were gone, the rift once again sealed.

“Dean?!” Sam called, 

“Glad you could make it.” Dean rasped.

***

“So that’s why we came, we need the seal to get our family back.” Sam told the Avila siblings as they wandered towards the exit

“If it could take us somewhere other than uh, tentacle porn land…” Dean paused, “Not that there’s

anything wrong with that.” he added, scratching behind his ear where the tentacles had previously caressed.

“When you cast the spell you need a guide, something that’s been where you need to go, and a force to channel that. Got it?”

“Got it. Where do we find a god to channel that since Glythor stole Yokoth. How did the Men of Letters get her here in 1925?”

“We don’t know. A lot of the records were missing when we took over. We aren’t sure how they got Yokoth here in the first place.” Marco said, a look of sorrow on his face. “I wish we could be of more assistance.”

“There are gods everywhere, there’s only one Seal, we’ll figure it out, we always do.” Dean said, 

“Careful, when you open the door it only stays open for 24 hours, and you never know what’s on the other side.” Ophelia added

“Well, whatever it is we’ll be ready.” Dean said,

“I hope you’re right.” Ophelia finished, handing him the Seal. 

***

In the darkness of the dungeon of Needham Asylum in Fall River, Massachusetts Arthur Ketch winced in pain. Battered and bruised with his suit stifling his movements as he reached gingerly into his mouth, he grabbed a tooth covered in bloody sinew and in one swift movement yanked it out of his jaw. He cried out in pain as he tossed it aside, leaning into a concrete wall as he regained his composure and spat blood onto the cold floor. Breathing heavily, he sat up straighter, gazing into the cell holding one of the most powerful beings this universe had ever seen.

“What are you looking at?” he sneered at the wandering eyes, “If I had half your power I’d,” he paused, looking from his chambers into the next hall, flickering candles the only life to be seen, “In fact” he began, standing swiftly, “I believe it’s time to go.” he said staring into the cage before lifting the iron bars. “Consider this a rescue.” he said to the archangel, who had since stuffed his battered body into the back corner of the cage. Crying through sewn lips Gabriel sat in terror as Ketch retrieved the archangel blade from a drawer in the other room, “Come on you.” he said again, irritation tainting his tone as Gabriel fought against him, crying desperately through his sealed lips. “This would all go so much faster if you would just flap your bloody wings.” Ketch griped, dragging Gabriel through a brick hallway light with a smattering of candles. 

“What the hell?” A demon guarding the area asked in alarm as shock filled his features, he leapt at Ketch who swiftly stabbed him with his blade, light filled every orifice of the demon’s body. As he died he grabbed onto Ketch’s shoulders before groaning and falling dead to the ground.

“Where were we?” Ketch asked, moving swiftly forward. Gabriel’s screams alerted further guards who quickly entered the room, Ketch backed up before lunging into the first, tossing Gabriel at the second. As the first crumpled to the ground the second fell underneath the dead weight of the frightened archangel. Ketch turned back around, throwing Gabriel off before stabbing the second demon. 

“Let’s go then.” he said, grabbing Gabriel’s arm and dragging him through the halls. He turned left at the bust of Asmodeus in full regalia, and right at the bookshelf of creepy looking ancient texts, finding his passage back through the labyrinth of winding halls as Gabriel protested. 

“Come on you bloody dead weight.” Ketch said, getting further irritated with the broken angel by the passing minute, the gravity of the situation seemingly missing from the angel’s broken brain. “Do you understand what I’m risking here?” he grumbled as he finally reached the back exit, his eyes trailed the perimeter searching for enemies, seeing none he pulled Gabriel through the doorway. 

Suddenly light filled the darkness, it sprayed brightly from every orifice of Gabriel’s battered body, every cut and bruise filled with a bright white light. Ketch’s eyes widened and jaw fell to the floor as Gabriel collapsed to the ground, his body first writhing in apparent pain then seizing. Ketch quickly rolled him onto his side as the angel shook. His eyes rolled back into his head before his lids shut. Ketch’s own eyes were the size of saucers as he quickly felt for a pulse as the tremors stopped. Finding a faint heartbeat he quickly picked up the battered angel and began sprinting for the nearest car.

***

Dean groaned as he and Sam entered the bunker,

“You sure you’re alright?” Sam asked as they found their way down the spiral staircase, Dean chuckled,

“Considering I was about three seconds away from being an interdimensional booty call, yeah, I’d say I’m all right.” Dean finished, Sam laughed in response as they made their way to the mapping table. 

“Well, we have the Seal. Right? So now all we need is an archangel and a minor god or that cross, and we’re set.”

“Sure, those sound easy.”

“Hah. Yeah.” Sam said, as Ketch came around the corner into the room. Immediately Sam and Dean braced for action, pulling loaded pistols out, cocking them and posing them for a respective head and heart shot as Dean grumbled

“Son of a bitch” under his breath, 

“WAIT!” Ketch cried out, “I come in peace.”

“Yeah, right.” Sam said, gun unwavering.

“And, I brought you a gift.” He said, pulling the unconscious archangel up off the floor,

“Wait a second. Is that…”

“That Gabriel?” Dean asked, confusion on the features of both brothers as Ketch gently dropped the angel into a chair at the Men of Letters’ map table.

“No, no, that’s impossible. He...He’s dead. We...We saw him die. Is he dead?”

“Or did you? He is very much alive.” 

“What did you do to him? Why is he passed out? Angels don’t sleep”  
“Not me. Asmodeus. The Prince was holding him prisoner, until I liberated the poor man. And I understand you may need an archangel for a spell, perhaps. Well, what luck.”

“We need his grace.” Sam said quietly, Ketch pulled out a glowing blue vial from his pocket, 

“Here. Take that. And, uh, mm,” he pulled out the blade, raising his hands in peace, as the guns resumed position, “the archangel blade.” Ketch added, dropping it to the map table. 

“Why would you… What’s the catch? What do you want?” Sam asked,

“Protection. From Asmodeus.”

“The one you’re working for?”

“Was working for. But when he finds out that I stole his prize milk cow, well I imagine that he’ll hunt me to the ends of the Earth. So… this is the only safe place I know.”

“What, do you just think you’re gonna move in?”

“Dibs on the top bunk?” Ketch chided, Sam and Dean responded in tandem,

“No.”  
“Deal.”

“What?” Sam asked, 

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on here. But if this helps us get mom back, helps us get Jack back, then...sure. Whatever you want.” Dean said, throwing the gun down as Gabriel began to stir.

***

“So now what, we still don’t have a God.” Sam said quietly, his lips pursed in frustration,

“I can’t help you with a God, currently the whereabouts of a majority of them are unknown, Chuck is obviously out and about doing heaven knows what with his bloody sister since Dean here turned her down.”

“Then that’s it, we’re screwed. No God blessing no spell. End of story and you leave now.” Sam said, a frustrated pout glossing his features. 

“You know anything about an Emerald Cross?” Dean asked, looking over at Ketch, whose features contorted in thought,

“Emerald cross you say?” he asked, “You don’t mean that of one Theodore Tucker?”  
“Theo-who now?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned in to listen. 

“Theodore Tucker? No?” He asked, looking between both boys who looked equally

confused. Ketch rolled his eyes, “Theodore ‘Teddy’ Tucker,” he began, “In 1955 he discovered a twenty two karat gold cross studded with emeralds, that likely originated on the Spanish Galleon that wrecked in 1594. It was believed to be of Indian craftsmanship and was also believed to contain mystical properties.”

“So where is it?” Dean egged,

“The cross was last seen in 1975, it was stolen from the Smithsonian museum and never recovered.”

“That’s just great.”

“So how do we get our hands on it?” Sam asked,

“Well, I believe with this.” Ketch said rolling the small vial of grace towards Sam.

“The Archangel grace?”

“I believe the redheaded witch fixed a spell for you? Time travel without the requirement of a blood relative? Yes? You have Gabriel here, he will produce more. We retrieve the cross, use Gabriel’s wings to bring us back once he’s been healed, we just have to pinpoint the right moment.”

“You seem to have this all buttoned up.” Dean commented,

“If I had nothing to bring to the table Dean,” he sneered, “there was no point in me showing up was there?” Ketch retorted, Dean swallowed and nodded,

“So, we time travel to get the cross, Gabe here zaps us back, anything else you wanted to mention?”

“Well yes now that you mention it,” Ketch stiffened, “We need to go to the approximate date of March 7th 1963.”

“Why then?” Sam asked, still mistrusting their unwelcome guest,

“That’s the day Tucker’s Cross shipped from the Bermudan Government to the Smithsonian. That is our window of opportunity.”

***

When Castiel entered the bunker to Ketch and Dean gently dripping the contents inside a vial labeled ‘the Sands of Time’ into a bowl he was concerned, but when he noticed the angel feather and archangel grace on the cutting board ready for use he was immediately on high alert. 

“What is going on here?” Cas asked as he stormed the small room,

“Nothin’ Cas, just getting a spell ready for tonight.” Dean said haphazardly as he grabbed his butcher knife and began chiffonading the angel feather. 

“What spell?” He asked, his eyes squinting at Arthur who grabbed the vial of grace.

“Nothin’ Cas just some time travel, we’ll be back by next week. Somethin’ to get mom and Jack back.” Dean responded lightly as he scraped the feather pieces into the bowl.

“How do you plan on returning?” He questioned deeper,

“Oh, Gabe’s on it.” Dean said, grabbing a handful of potato chips from a bag beside him.

“Gabe?” He asked, head tilting, “as in?”  
“Yeah, Gabriel, your brother’s back, Ketch brought him.” Dean said, Ketch nodded as he combined the spell components “it’s a whole party”.

“All that’s missing is the blood.” Ketch said with an air of satisfaction.

“Perfect.” Dean said with a smile, he grabbed his bag of chips, “I’ll be ready in a couple hours,” Dean said, Ketch nodded.

“Dean, are you serious?” Cas hissed, “Traveling through time is tricky, and with him?!” He emphasized, 

“Yeah, I know, it’s not ideal, but Sam needs to be here to help Gabriel bring me back. To make sure Gabriel brings me back.” He corrected. 

“Dean I don’t sense an angel here.” Cas hissed,

“Well he’s upstairs asleep.” Dean said,

“Dean I do not believe this to be a good idea.” 

“Well Cas, good thing I wasn’t askin’.” Dean turned and began to leave the room, grabbing his half eaten bag of chips.

“Dean.”  
“What, Cas.

“Take me with you. I can help.” Cas said, unwavering determination set into his tanned features. 

“Okay Cas. Get ready. I’ll handle your paperwork. We leave in two hours.”

***

Dean gathered the relevant items, the shipment was to be done by the 1963 United States Postal Service, a Letter Carrier would take the cross from where it landed in Port Canaveral, from there it would be delivered up through the Carolinas and Virginia before reaching its final known destination in the Smithsonian Museum in Washington DC and so a USPS Letter Carrier badge circa 1963 was the top of the list, a rush print request, they’d have the badges in hand before they left along with matching drivers licenses, and some vintage postal threads - enough to get the job done. 

“DEAN!” Sam called from downstairs, “BADGES ARE IN.”

“AWESOME. THANKS SAMMY.” Dean called back, walking back into the main foyer where he grabbed the freshly minted counterfeits. 

“CAS,” Dean called, Cas treaded lightly into the room, “here.” Dean said, tossing him a drivers license circa 1963 and fake postal carrier badge to match. “You ready to go?”

“Yes Dean.” he said, pointing to a small bag in hand filled with his postal gear.

“Alright, just checking sheesh.” Dean said with a chuckle, “we’re getting mom back.” he 

almost bounced saying it. “We just need this dumb cross and she’s as good as ours.” 

“And Jack.” Cas said, a warmth filling his usually stoic face, 

“And Jack back.” Dean said, patting Cas’ shoulder. 

“SAMMY!” Dean called, Sam re-entered the room, “we’re about ready to go.” he

said, Sam nodded,

“One week, you have from today until the 14th, I’ll have Gabriel up and running we’ll pull you back.” Sam said, running through the plan again, Dean nodded, hugging his brother as Ketch entered the room with the bowl.

“Shall we?” He asked, pulling the knife from his sleeve, Dean nodded as Ketch drew a line delicately across his palm,

“You next.” Dean said, nodding to Cas who obliged, finally Dean added his blood to the spell. Ketch drew the sigil as the three began chanting,

“CNILA PVGO CNILA” in unison, 

“Safe travels.” Sam whispered and in a flash of light, the three men were gone.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

March 7th, 1963

The sound of whirring engines and rustling white wall tires were what Dean Winchester woke to, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight in part blotted out by palm trees swaying gracefully in the salty breeze. Dean grunted, rubbing his eyes with his right hand as he used his left to perch himself up off the ground,

“Cas?” He called quietly,

“Present.” Cas responded from somewhere behind him, his monotone response indicating an equally rough landing. Dean glanced around his person to asses the situation, some touristy shops and a desolate beach marked the Thursday afternoon they found themselves experiencing. Pausing, Dean glanced back at his arm, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Didn’t that have more…” he began grumbling before interrupted by a sharp,

“DEAN.” Dean looked up to see a handsome twenty something with eyes the size of 

saucers staring back at him.

“...Cas?” Dean asked quietly,

“It appears something went wrong with the spell.” he said, 

“What?!” Dean asked sharply, 

“Yes, I can confirm, something did in 

fact go wrong.” Ketch responded, Dean turned to see what could only pass as the best blackmail - pizza face and swimming in his suit, Arthur Ketch could have been no more than 23 and that was being generous. 

“What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know, we said the incantation perfectly, did you follow Rowena’s instructions

properly?”

“What? Yes I followed her damn instructions properly.” Dean said, grabbing the phone 

out of his pocket and turning on the camera, the green eyes staring back at him were familiar and yet all the same wrong, the lines from years of fighting demons, devils, and spawn from hell had seemingly been erased, “Son of a BITCH.” Dean shrieked, voice cracking in the process. Ketch snickered quietly, looking away,

“Shut it pizza face.” Dean snapped back, Ketch frowned, 

“Well, this isn’t quite what I had in mind, we can still manage this.” Ketch said quietly, digging through his bag to find his postal gear.

“How are we supposed to do that 

genius, my ID says I’m freaking 40.” 

“The postal badges don’t require photo id or dates, they will still be effective.” Cas

offered hopefully, his shoulders no longer filling out Jimmy Novak’s suit and trench coat combo that had served the angel for years.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean said again, dropping his phone back into his pocket. Dean crushed his face into his hands and groaned again. 

“We need to move Dean, the cross should be here any time now.” Cas said quietly as Ketch started walking off. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean asked as Ketch continued down the boardwalk,

“I gave you everything you need, your true partner in crime is here,” He said, pausing to look at Castiel, “what on Earth do you need me for?”  
“Oh no, that’s not how this works sweetheart. You could mess this whole thing up. Until we have the cross, you’re staying with us.” Dean grunted, the attitude of forty clearly unwavering despite the negative effects of the spell.

“Fine, we get the cross, then I go, do we have a deal?”

“Deal.” Dean said,

“There is no way this is going to fit me now, we must find a tailor.” Ketch whined, looking down at his well pressed postal uniform, not designed for the string bean he had taken the shape of.

“Or we just hit up Goodwill.” Dean said, stretching his arms above his head,

“Dean, you’re hurt.” Cas said quietly, finally taking note of a large, bleeding scrape on Dean’s now exposed side, “here.” he said quietly, placing two fingers on Dean’s temple, he held there for a second before his expression tightened,

“What’s the hold up Cas?” Dean asked quietly, 

“He’s defunct.” Ketch said quietly,

“He’s what?”

“Defunct.”

“It seems the spell did more than just this.” He said, motioning to his body.

“You’re human?”  
“My grace seems to be gone.” He said with a quiet dismay,

“Awesome.” he said quietly, pulling his shirt back down and Cas’ hand off of his now damp forehead. 

“Come then lovebirds” Ketch said quietly, “we have a Shipping Port to infiltrate.” he said, Dean grunted and followed suit, motioning for Cas to follow him.

***

Dean scratched at his chin, the smooth skin an eerie reminder of just how screwed they were. Age commanded respect, nobody was going to trust some twenty year old kids with one of the most valuable artifacts ever discovered from a shipwreck. Their clothing had been quickly hemmed by a local seamstress for a hefty charge, and the evening was wearing on.

“I’ve told you repeatedly, if we go to the bunker now before it is intended to be discovered by Sam and yourself in 2013 there could be repercussions affecting the future, and specifically you, and your brother, Dean, we can’t go there.” Dean’s eyes rolled again as Ketch shot down the Bunker as a place to rest for the third time,

“We’ll get a motel, if we interfere with time, with your line of work, either of you could

easily die.” Ketch reiterated again,

“He’s right, Dean.” Cas said quietly, looking over at him. 

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Dean grumbled, 

“This is why we brought currency you nitwit. Besides, we’re in Florida not Kansas.” Ketch grumbled back as they walked over to the reception tipi

“I still want to know how the hell we ended up in Orlando when we were aiming for Miami.” Dean grumbled, placing blame on Ketch who quickly retorted,

“What part of that spell went right?” Dean’s eyes rolled

“Whatever. Come on.” Dean said as they walked up to the Wigwam Motel in Orlando. A semi circle of cream white teepees with deep orange decals in a small semicircle was an experience by itself, as the trio walked into the reception teepee, a smiling blonde greeted them,

“Why hello dears, what can I assist you with today?” She asked, a slight reservation in her tone, 

“We’re lookin’ for a room sweet cheeks”, Dean said with a smile,

“Sure thing.” she said, a tenseness in her posture yet the smile still warm, “Just one dear?” She asked with her brows piqued,

“You got it.” He said with a tongue click and a wink,

“That’ll be $9.42.” She said, typing the balance owed into her mechanical cash register, Dean pulled out a ten and handed it to her, she quickly arranged the proper change and provided it to Dean, “you boys will be in room 3, you have a great stay okay?” She said with a further forced smile,

“Thank you ma’am.” Cas said, taking the key from her. As the boys left he could barely make out ‘airy’ from the receptionist, frowning he took note that it seemed most all of his angel ‘mojo’ had gone.

"Orlando." Dean scoffed, wrong city, wrong age, and one teepee with three freaking tatami mats to sleep on, maybe this works for Elder Price but not Dean freaking Winchester. Dean sighed, dropping his gear on the corner beside his 'bed'. "So what's the plan now" he asked, running his hands through his hair,

"We missed arrival." Ketch said, "we need to intercept it at its next stop.”

“Which is where genius?”

“What am I the bloody internet?” he said, grabbing out the paperwork that covered the cross’ route. “It’ll be in West Palm beach.” He said with his hand inside his satchel fishing in the bag. He pulled out cream paperwork - USPS official documents - they would be in West Palm Beach at 9:23 am tomorrow and be handed off to another carrier. 

“So we’ll be ready.” Cas said quietly, scratching lightly at the back of his head. Dean nodded. 

“No showers in this damn place who picked a teepee anyway.” Dean grumbled, rolling over on his inch thick foam on the floor, Cas could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and turned away from the group as Ketch scoffed. 

***

“We need to move.” Ketch said as his watch began beeping, Dean had his Postal Service Issue boots half laced and looked over to Ketch, who was pointing at Castiel who was still zonked.

“What? He’s human now. Sleep is important.” 

“You certainly don’t do it.”

“I’m a Winchester, Winchester’s don’t need sleep.”

“Right, well, good news, so is he.” Ketch said with a laugh, 

“Novak.”

“What?”  
“His alias.” Dean stressed, “Is Novak.”

“Right, well, whatever he is he needs to get his Novak chicken arse out of bed so we can intercept the package.” Ketch hissed, Dean frowned, nodding along. 

“Cas. Castiel.” He called out, his voice booming, Cas groaned, stretching his arms up and hitting the walls of the teepee in the process. “Rise and shine sunshine we have a cross to steal and some family to save.” Dean called out. Cas sat up, slowly stripping his tank top and sweatpants off of his sweating body.

“Florida.” he grumbled,

“Okay, a person sure but not a morning one, touché.” Dean laughed, receiving a glare from Cas. Cas pulled either sleeve over his arm, fumbling with the buttons as he put on his uniform,

“Uh, Cas.” Dean said quietly, pointing to the left side of his shirt that was hanging far below the right. “C’mere.” he grumbled quietly, quickly undoing the button work that Cas had done and rebuttoning it evenly where Cas had failed. “There we go, Postal perfection eh?” Cas’ glare tightened, “hey now, don’t you go postal on me.” he teased further,

“Can we please get on with it? Quit flirting and let’s go.” Ketch groaned, 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist. We’ll get the cross.” Dean said, 

“Let’s go.” Cas grumbled, knocking into Ketch’s shoulder much to Dean’s amusement as they walked out the front of the teepee.

April 12th, 2018

Sam watched as Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, a slow process that seemed to take eons before full consciousness filled his being. Sam had been waiting. 

“Easy, easy.” Sam said quietly, approaching Gabriel slowly, hands up to prove no harm was to come. A small silver scalpel in his left hand, a warm washcloth in the right. “I’m here to help.” he said quietly, helping Gabe up onto a chair he dropped himself down beside the man. Sam set the washcloth onto the table next to him and began slowly reaching for Gabriel’s face. Gabe grimaced at even the gentle touch of Sam’s calloused hands. Taking the scalpel in his right hand, he reached for Gabriel’s mouth and took the blade to the twine locking his lips together. He sawed lightly, attempting not to pull on the pussy red infections in his pale skin. Gabriel whined and winced as the first, the second, the third stitch came undone, Sam grimaced right along with him as he broke the bonds.

“Gabriel… Man what happened to you?” Sam asked gently as he finished up the last stitch, Gabriel’s eyes widened, no answer forthcoming. “Years of isolation and torture, that can’t be easy.” Sam said quietly, he gently began unthreading the twine from Gabriel’s lips, “antiseptic.” he murmured, standing to go fetch the full first aid kid.

“Do you remember me?” He asked quietly on his return, “Do you remember the video you sent my brother and me? To help stuff Lucifer back in the cage?” He asked with a miniscule smile, anything to distract the angel as he gently pulled the first strand of rotting twine from between his lips. A whine of anguish filled the room as the bondage came free with a fresh stream of blood dribbling from his lower lip.

“Easy, easy.” Sam said again, taking an antiseptic wipe to his mouth, “this is going to 

sting.” he said quietly reaching forward, as he did Gabriel swung, batting Sam’s arms away and skittering off to the corner of the room. Sam sighed, dropping the blood covered wipe to the table. “Okay, okay, we’ll take a break.”

***

When Sam returned, Gabriel was slouched down onto the table, Dean, Cas, and Ketch had left, and the evening was wearing on. Sam had a beer in hand and another warm towel.

“Are you ready to start again?” He asked tensely, Gabriel met his eyes, otherwise unwilling to speak. “Okay.” Sam said quietly, first taking the washcloth to what blood and debris he could manage to get off of Gabriel’s sullen face. “Okay, okay, easy.” he said, dropping the now bloody washcloth and reaching for the twine still embedded in his lips. Gabriel grimaced and winced in pain, his features shrinking with each attempt to clear his mouth of the twine. Tears began rolling involuntarily from his eyes from pure pain. When Sam got the first strand out a stream of blood gently followed, rolling down his chin. Sam quickly pulled an antiseptic wipe and began slowly cleaning the gaping hole. Much to Gabriel’s displeasure. He flinched at every touch.

“Easy,” Sam whispered, gently getting the alcohol into the wound. “If we don’t clean it, it’ll stay infected until your mojo does its thing.” Sam said quietly, Gabriel looked away. Sam carefully removed the rest of the stitching, a slow and painful process that even without words spoken had obviously taken a lot out of the archangel. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you upstairs.” He said quietly, thinking a shower was too much to ask at this point, especially considering the regeneration period of grace wasn’t really all that long usually. When they got to the room Gabriel was borrowing, Sam let him in and showed him where everything was as Gabriel hid in the corner.

“I have to sleep now, if you need anything you know where to find me.” Sam said quietly, shutting the door behind him. 

March 8th, 1963

“Thank you for your stay at the Wigwam motel, where people from all walks of life are welcome.” The receptionist said with a cool smile, taking the key from Dean, whose brows squeezed together in momentary confusion - the false warm smile however never left his face,

“Thanks sweetheart. Invest in some showers.” he said, dropping the key. 

“The experience of the savages was not one of showers sirs.” She said, placing the key behind her desk, “Come again!” She waved as they walked out the door. 

“Wow.” Dean scoffed, 

“It is the 60s.” Ketch responded, Cas nodded in assent. 

“Taxi!” Dean called out, waving as one passed by, they were on the strip after all. The taxi turned around and pulled over, the rust mottled exterior was nothing compared to the interior, ripping leather seats and the faint scent of mildew indicated this was going to be quite the ride. 

“We’re headed for West Palm Beach,” Dean said, 

“I can take ye there.” the man responded, pulling his cigarette out of the driver side

window and taking a long drag, “Hop on in.” he said with the exhale, brushing the falling ash off of his Hawaiian shirt. Dean nodded. Dean took the cracking passenger seat, Cas and Ketch took the back seat, stretching the stain covered towel further across the cracking leather as they sat down.

“So, where you boys from?” He asked,

“Kansas”

“England”

“The beginning of time.” the three said in uneven unison. Ketch elbowed Cas, 

“Nitwit.” he mumbled under his breath,

“Ah, our friends from the north, our friends across the sea, and our friends from the Acid Tests.” The driver said with a laugh, “I can dig it.” he chuckled.

“What sends you boys to our sister city?” he asked, putting out his cigarette on his dusty dashboard, lime green fuzzy dice bouncing in the window with each bump in the road.

“Touring.” Dean said with a smile, “We got out early today.” he said, motioning to the

postal gear. 

“Boys from the local NALC? Days off? Get outta here!” the man said with a chuckle, “My sister Bernice used to work for them, she ain’t nevah.” he laughed, “I mean I guess it is the slow season, still, letters man, they need carried.” he joked, “Say, you boys know Bernice Howard?” he asked, pulling another puff, “Well, I guess ya wouldn’t. Yah too young.” he laughed, Dean visibly grimaced. Twenty. Right. “She retired, few years back, you can’t be more’n 18? Job outta high school or sum’n? Couldn’t find bettah?”

“Nah, family business, couldn’t give it up.” Dean said quietly,

“Family business now? Well if any of yeh know Bernice tell her Avram says hey, give her a shout for her ol’ bro.” he said with a laugh, pulling down the handle beside his wheel the blinker noise began clicking in cadence. 

“Ooh ooh I love this one!” the driver bounced in his seat and turned the dial up on his radio’s volume knob, “Sheeee’s veenuuuuss, in bluee jeannns, Mona Lisa in a ponytaaaaaill.” he began wailing along to the boyish melody. “This song reminds me of my wife,” he said with a smile between phrases, “ a teeenaaggee goddess frooom abooooovee and she belongs to meeeee.” he swayed with the melody, “me and her, we met back in good ol’ ‘26.” he said with a smile, my good ol’ Sarah June.” he grinned, looking to his passenger Dean, over his shoulder to Ketch on the right, and into his rearview to look at Cas in the back, “You fellas have any lucky ladies waiting for ya back home?” He asked, pulling out another cigarette. Dean could taste the secondhand lung cancer. Cigars, sure, he and Sammy would smoke every once in a while, but come on, nobody likes cigarettes.

“Uh, no .” Dean said, snapping out of it,

“What? A young good-looking fella like yourself? Ain’t no beach bitch are ya?” he said, eyeing Dean,

“What? Uh, no. No.” Dean said, unsure of what he meant but the look on his face said Dean didn’t want to know,

“No sir.” Ketch added, a look of annoyance blessing his usually constipated features. Cas looked at the driver, squinting his eyes,

“I have someone like that.” Cas said quietly, Dean’s brow furrowed, his heart dropping micrometers in his chest,

“He doesn’t wanna hear about that Cas…” Dean said quietly, a forced chuckle escaping his lips,

“Wha? Sure I do!” He said, “Tell me all about her.”

“Well, she is strong headed and sure willed-”

“A good American woman, I already love her! What’s her name?”

“Her name is uh-Baby.”

“Baby huh? Odd name,” the driver mused, Dean closed his eyes, rolling them behind the lids.

“Yeah, well, that’s, that’s not her name, that’s just what I call her.”

“Okay, so you and ya Baby, how’d ya meet.”

“Barn...s and Noble. Meeting her, it was like she stabbed my heart on impact. It could’ve been very bloody.” Cas responded, “it was very cute.”

“Yeah I’ll bet. A smart girl, now that’s a class act. Ya’ll need to follow the footsteps of ol’ blue eyes back there, get yourselves some beautiful American women, yeah even you Tom. How’d you end up in ‘Orlando anyway?”

“You do ask a lot of questions.” Ketch deadpanned, 

“Keeps the day interesting.” he said with a shrug,

“I came here for work.”

“But, you work for the United States Post Office? There ain’t no Tommy branch?”

“Study abroad.” Ketch responded, 

“Ah, yeah, good ol’ American schooling.” he said with a happy grin and vigorous nodding. 

Ketch looked at his watch, they left at 6:15 allotting time to spare but the damn driver was obeying traffic laws like he was driving the local elderly tour. 

“I do miss your car Dean, good ol’ American muscle, no rules just the road.” Ketch grumbled, 

“What’s your poison?” Avram asked genuinely,

“Chevy Impala, sixty-,er, sixty.” he said, 

“A sixty Impala, huh? Not too shabby. Post office pays good huh?”

“Yeah, great, great pay. Oh and the benefits? The pension? 401K? Man.” Dean said with a happy chuckle, Avram laughed,

“I ain’t never heard someone your age go on about benefits before, your ol’ man did well.” 

“Uh, yeah, he uh, he taught me the importance of proper fiscal preparation.” Dean lied, Cas and Ketch were barely holding their shit together in the back seat, lips pursed and sharing stares. Cas frowned quickly after, emotions once again unlocked, another detriment he would have to keep in check. 

“Good man.”

“Soldier too.”  
“Yeah?! One or two?”

“Uh, both.”

“Good man.” Avram said, “I had family liberated from Germany. Thank your old man for his service for me.” he said sincerely,

“I uh, I will.” Dean said. 

“You ever think of serving?”

“Me? Nah. That was dad’s thing.” Dean said, “If the country needs me, maybe, sure, I guess I’ll step up to the plate.”

“Good man.”

***

“Only an hour left boys, we’re getting close!” Avram said, patting his metering device. 

“Approximately how much is this going to come to?” Ketch asked quietly,

“Well, I figure, about 180 miles, plus idle time, you’re probly lookin’ in the mid sixty range? Meter will tell ya when the time comes.”

“Jolly good.” Ketch remarked sarcastically,

“Hey man my kid’s gotta eat too.”

“I’m quite aware we signed up for this, rest assured you will be paid.” he grumbled, “my nitwit acquaintances here are the reason we aren’t in the correct city.”  
“Oh yeah?” Avram asked, “I bet that’s quite the tale.” he said eagerly, it’s almost as if he was paid to pry. 

“Erm, well yes.” Ketch started, “as you can see we are quite young.” he said, shooting daggers at Dean whose incompetence with spellcraft was clearly the reason, “we were signing up for work with the Postal Service as we just graduated high school, eh, Hook ‘Em Horns” he said with a little fist pump, faking some school spirit, “ and you see these two applied to the wrong city. Imagine our surprise when Orlando called and told us we were hired.”

“Wait, how’d you apply to the wrong city? Wouldn’t you have to bring the application to the whole wrong building?” Avram asked earnestly, Cas chimed in,

“No, that’s not the whole story, Dean and I were trying to get out of West Palm and this seemed like a good choice, we didn’t tell Art here because we knew his disagreeable disposition could compromise the plan.” he deadpanned, 

“Whoa! That’s some pretty juicy stuff, what happened when you found out Art?!” 

“Arthur, please.” Ketch grumbled, “and I’d much rather be where I intended thank you very much.” 

“Children, ey, shuddup in the backseat will ya.” Dean grumbled, much to Ketch’s irritation.

“So what were ya runnin from?” Goddamn it was like the driver had a bucket of popcorn and was along for the shit show.

“My parents.” Cas said, “my father to be specific. I, didn’t like what he had planned for me, so we ran off into the West Palm sunset. And we took him with us.”

“That’s nice, two dudes, supporting each other, I had a friend like that back in ‘39, his name was Glenn Goodwin, man we he a good dude for a Jap.” he said with a slight smile, much to the universal grimace of the three passengers, “he went to war for us, didn’t make it.” he said quietly, “good man. Even if he was a yellow one.” More grimacing ensued. “So your pops, what did he want for you?” Avram asked, pulling out his fourth or fifth cigarette of the ride - Dean had lost count. 

“Chuck,” Cas sighed, “wanted my brothers to fight to the death.” Cas deadpanned,

“Over the family business,” Dean chimed in, seeing the look of thoughtful horror on Avram’s sweaty mustached face. 

“And you were supposed to be in that fight?” 

“Well, not exactly no, the fight would have resulted in family chaos - my world would’ve been destroyed you could say. I didn’t want to stick around for it.” 

“Touché.” Avram said, a wicked cough escaping his lungs, he pounded down on his chest, rubbing circles to get it to stop, “the lungs, not what they once were.”

“Next year’s going to be brutal.” Ketch quietly scoffed, looking over at Cas who nodded knowingly. Dean and Avram’s brows scrunched in unison. 

“Ah, what I mean is, I hear there are some interesting studies going on right now, they are supposed to come out next year. On lungs, and smoking.” 

“Bah, doctor schmoctor, these babies keep me going.” he said, twisting the white paper between his thumb and pointer fingers. The ride continued on with half truths and small anecdotes for the remainder of the ride, until their arrival at approximately 8:52. $65.30 was paid to the man, and the trio left the dingy cab.

“Wow.” Dean said quietly as Avram drove off, 

“Wow indeed.” Ketch groaned, “we need to go. The hand off is in 20 minutes.” he said hurriedly,

“Let’s go.” Dean agreed, the group was off. Postal clothes straightened up they quickly walked down the main street, taking a left on Palm and the right down Prince Dr. Calm palms swayed in the wind urging them gently along. 

“Come on, go.” Dean hissed as they arrived at the gated building. Gorgeous brick and shiny new vehicles said ‘this town has money’ but the slouching shoulders of the other postal workers insinuated that this job wasn’t worth that.

“Cas, get into mail truck 3760, Ketch, you and me go up to the office.” Ketch nodded as Cas slunk off to the aforementioned truck he found idling in the parking lot. Cas carefully entered the vehicle, looking around at the boxes, nothing special here.

“Hey, what are you doing here? This is my truck!” a man called out as he walked up to Castiel in 3760, “who are you? I’ve never seen you here before? Who sent you?!” he asked, getting into the doorway. Anxiety, another new emotion. The ever cool Castiel began stammering,

“I-I was sent by our superior to take this truck.”

“Oh yeah, who?”  
“I, our.”

“HEY, SOMEBODY GET OVER HERE NOW.” the postal carrier began yelling, 

“What, no I can assure you I-” Someone came speed walking up to the truck, Dean and Ketch nowhere to be seen.

“Can I see some ID?” She asked, a tone of authority and anger in her voice.

“What, ID, I’m just here to-”

“Yeah, I know what you’re here for, caught your boys trying to sneak into the back. ID. NOW.” She commanded, Castiel obliged, pulling out his ID.

“Wow.” she said, nodding, “you look GREAT for forty, what is your secret?” she asked

sarcastically, grabbing Castiel’s wrists. “Come on, David get back onto your route, that cargo is time sensitive. You’re coming with me Novak.” she spoke,

“No, but, I, I can explain!” he yelled out, David could barely hear him as the postal inspector drug him away. David sat himself in the seat and began route to his next destination.

When Dean saw Castiel being dragged into the room in cuffs, he knew all was lost. The postal inspector threw him down next to Ketch, Dean on the other side, 

“Do you three boys know that federal mail theft is a felony? Subject to five years in federal prison?” 

“Yes ma’am.” they said in a bleary unison, she pulled a chair into the room and flipped it backwards, straddling it and folding her arms across the back, “there are armed guards outside, if you try anything, they will stop you.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“You three, good American boys?” They nodded, Ketch silent.

“Young, graduates?” they nodded, “any hope for college?”

“Can’t afford it.” Cas said, head hanging, blue eyes turned watery for effect. 

“I see.” she said, mouth pursed. “I took your names down. They’re on my records, and your names will be known across the service. But. I’m letting you off with a warning, this time. If I see your names come up again, I won’t hesitate. You will be charged. Do I make myself clear?” she said, eyeing each of them, nodding in unison. “Good. I’ll have the guards escort you off the premises. Your bags will stay with me until a parent or guardian comes to retrieve them." She said, exiting the room. 

“SON OF A BITCH.” Dean yelled as the door closed, 

“Now what?” Ketch asked, 

“I don’t know.” Dean said quietly. “Where is it going?”

“I don’t fail.” Ketch said, his voice rife with irritation, “I didn’t bloody LOOK THAT FAR AHEAD.” he yelled as the guards came in, 

“Come on, it’s time to go.” they said, grabbing the boys, dragging them through the postal lobby as patrons stared unabashedly, and threw them into the back seat of an armored car.

***

The guards uncuffed the boys once they were at the place Dean gave as their home address, letting them out of the car in front of a Reddi Mart with a look of confusion, confusion and uncertainty. 

“Hey, small business owners are the future.” Dean said, the guards shrugged and got back into the car, leaving the scene.

“So, now what.” Ketch asked, frustration married to his tone, 

“I don’t know man this was your plan!” Dean said, grabbing at the sides of his short sandy blonde hair with his hands.

“Well, our things are gone, not that we had all that many things to begin with, we have no money because that was in the things, we have no place to go or stay and we know, oh yeah no one.” Cas said, jaw set and clenched. 

“We need to get that damn cross before it’s delivered!” Dean said angrily,

“How, Dean?” Ketch asked in frustration, “it’s next stop - which mind you the timeline is likely altered already - is in Fort Pierce which is, oh right, a bloody HOUR AWAY.” He yelled, “How do you propose we get there without any FUNDS?” Ketch said angrily,

“We do what we have to?”  
“And how do we bloody do that we look like teenagers.”

“We scam we, we,”

“Run a credit scam without a computer? Good frigging luck.” Ketch said, “I’m done. I didn’t want in on the scheme to begin with I wanted a vacation in the 60’s and welp I think I’ve had enough of our time together. Do enjoy one another. And here’s the bloody list.” Ketch said, pulling the paper list of stops from his pocket and slapping it into Dean’s hand. “Good bloody luck.” he yelled as he began walking down Ventura Boulevard, slamming the list of stops into Dean’s hand. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean called after him, the response was a finger in the air without so much as a backward glance.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me then Cas.” Dean said quietly, “Your mojo back yet? Sure could use it right now.” Cas’ eyes got large and watery, a slight shake of his head confirmed what Dean already knew. “You know what, it’s fine, I don’t like to play on easy mode anyway.” he said, patting Cas’ shoulder, to which he found a half smile making its way onto Cas’ face. “There we go.” He said, “now come on, we have a cross to hunt.”


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

April 13th 2018.

Sam’s brain wouldn’t stop roving as he lay under his red flannel sheets. What? Bed, Bath and Beyond was having a sale okay? Pulling the cool thin blankets up over his shoulders and twisting to the left side Sam eyed the door out into the Bunker hall, to its right the closet of dingy flannels, and the nightstand with a half empty bottle of Advil underneath the pre-affixed bunker edition lamp. He looked at his phone screen, cracked in two places and dulling the time read 3:42 am, Sam brought his hands to his face, grunting in frustration. Sam stood up, pulling pajama bottoms over his dark green boxers and sliding into his slippers. Rubbing at his eyes he walked slowly towards the bedroom door, hand stretched outward prepared to catch himself if he ran into something while his vision finally began to return. As the stars dissipated his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hallway. 

Padding softly towards the kitchen, Sam found himself lost in the past, not like Dean was, but in memories past. His son, Jack didn’t realize Sam knew, but of course Sam knew he’d sneak down here to eat sugar cereal, usually around this time of night. He may not be an angel, but Winchesters don’t sleep either. Sam sighed,

“Well, can’t let this go stale.” Sam said quietly, grabbing a bowl of sugar coated glorified cardboard in the shapes of donuts, “I still can’t believe Dean buys you this crap.” He said with a chuckle, “Wait, yes I can.” he added, placing the spoon full he had grabbed into his mouth with a clink of metal against his teeth. His eyes wandered the room, nothing interesting. No brother, no son, no friend; just a busted angel and the usual demons haunting his brain. Running a hand through his long hair Sam found his left leg bouncing as he finished his cereal. “Miss you kid,” he said quietly, washing his dishes in the sink 

“Huh, Dean must’ve had a sandwich before he left.” he mused, washing the butcher knife and small plate along with his midnight snack dishes before making his way up the stairs to crawl back into bed. He paused, turning toward Gabriel’s room - it’s not like angels slept.

When Sam arrived in Gabe’s room he knocked twice, entering slowly, “Gabriel?” he said quietly, entering the room. Gabriel hadn’t moved - still hiding in the corner, but the once clean bunker walls were smeared with blood, small clots and long streaming droplets clung to the walls depicting what he could only assume were enochian sigils. Sam’s mouth fell agape, his eyes on Gabriel, 

“How did you?” He asked quietly, shock still running through his bones, the pause in speech caused by Sam’s eyes now tracing Gabriel’s arms, twin gashes running up either side. “The knife.” He said quietly “Stay here.” he said calmly, he ran after the first aid kit once again.

***

“You idiot.” Sam grumbled, pulling the string through the final part of the gash before tying it off and running a fresh layer of antiseptic over the wound, “Okay, come on, other side.” He said, Gabriel groaned, twisting to give Sam access to his right arm. 

Upon finishing up the second set of stitches, Sam paused, and looked Gabriel in the eye, his eyes weren’t met. “You, weren’t,” he paused, starting again, “You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?” He said quietly, a look of frustration passed through Gabriel’s eyes, that then rolled. “Okay, just checking. Dumbass.” he said, standing up and walking out of the room. 

***

Five hours of translation, multiple pages worth of scribbled out guesses and half finished sentences and Sam thought he finally had it cracked. He pulled Gabriel aside and began reading from his page,

“Per usual my brother had double my brawn and half my brains, he assumed the counterfeit me is what vanished that night and he thought that he had stabbed the real thing. The truth is the thing Luci skewered was a fake, there are plenty of fakes to go around. Everyone believed Gabriel was gone, and suddenly I was free, no obligation to God or Heaven or Mankind. And so I did what anyone would do, I moved to Monte Carlo and shacked up with porn stars. There was Magnifique, her eyes were the color of Dean’s.” Sam squinted at Gabriel slightly, no difference in Gabriel’s expression, “There was Antony, whose abdominal muscles could be used as a cutting board. You’d be proud Sammy- Don’t call me that- I had the best sex, there were Chinese Chairs, there was BDSM (and none of that fifty shades crap), there was Mischief and Mayhem - they’re twins - many was that an experience. Whoo man. But then one day, when I was minding my own business, the business of a very sexy Latino lover that is, I was captured and delivered to Asmodeus. For years I knew nothing but endless torture. Asmodeus once the weakest of hell’s princes grew strong by feeding on my grace. It was deplorable. My brain still functions, I’m still here, I’m trapped. Everything is dark, and everything sets me off. I slept the majority of the day away, what is that. Not only did I sleep all day, I’m starving. WHY Sam, why!?” Sam held Gabe’s gaze, the gaze was met, “Something is wrong, more than just your brother’s face, help,” he said, shutting the notebook, “that about right?” He asked quietly, Gabriel nodded rapidly, “Awesome.” Sam said, wandering off to go take a break, reading enochian for five hours had given him a pretty wicked migraine he was more than happy to sleep off, leaving Gabriel to his own devices.

***

Sam knew he had missed his calling, and that that calling, was as a motivational speaker. Not to brag, but he once gave a speech so great that Jack, his son, fell asleep and started drooling on a table. Can Steve Jobs do that? No. Because Steve Jobs is dead, but Gabriel? He needed a motivational speech, and by God, Sam was ready. He walked up to Gabriel’s room, he had given the angel plenty more time to mope with absolutely no change and honestly, Sam was tired of it. He knocked twice before entering the room, Gabriel was laying down, eyes closed. Sam cleared his throat twice and Gabriel blinked, looking up at him. 

“Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. I know you think it’s safer inside, no more torture. No more pain. No more expectations. I’ve been there. You’re nothing like your family, you sure as hell weren’t like your dad. Me either. And just like you, I got out. Or, I-I thought, I got out. But then,” (this is the good part) “then my family needed me. And this is my life. No matter how many times I try to fight it. This is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. And sure, yeah, hookers in Monte Carlo sounds great, but your family needs you. Jack, your nephew, needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel I need you. So please, help us.” Sam concluded, mentally taking a bow, waiting to see the effect.

“Porn stars. They were porn stars, Sam.” Gabriel whispered, a slight cough following his creaky voice. Sam’s face lit up, a smile finding its way into his cheeks.

“It’s a start.” he laughed,

“Food?” 

“Food?” Sam asked, confused as Gabriel’s stomach growled, “what the hell... Okay, sure, one turkey sandwich coming up.” He said,

“With pickles!?” Gabriel croaked out,

“With pickles.” Sam groaned back, walking out of the room. 

***

Sam returned to Gabriel, a turkey and pickle sandwich in one hand and a hot cup of tea in the other. Hands occupied he used his ass to turn the knob, opening the door with a firm bump from his hips. He dropped the plate onto the bed and cup on a coaster he then placed on the bedside table. He was about to begin speaking with Gabriel again when his phone began vibrating,

“Hello.” He answered brusquely,

“Samuel.” Asmodeus drawled, “I hope you’re having a pleasant day. It’s come to my attention that you boys have something that belongs to me and I’d like it back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, I believe you do. And I’m gonna give you one chance to return him to me. No harm, no foul.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Do not hang up on me. Gabriel is of no use to you in his current condition. Should you choose to resist me I will have no choice but to take him by force. I will reduce you and that sad little bunker of yours to ashes. You got 10 minutes to decide. Now you can hang up.” Asmodeus finished has he ended the call. Gabriel’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, he grasped at his arms, rocking back and forth in a small ball in the corner of the room. 

“Hey, easy, I’m not gonna let him take you. I’m gonna go, ward this place, we aren’t going down without a fight.” He said, power walking out the door - another nailed speech. 

***

As Gabriel sat rocking forward and rubbing his temples, waiting for Sam to come back to him, the bunker powered down. The emergency lights turned on, flashing bright against the glowing glyphs on the wall, an attempt at warding that had apparently failed.

Sam, with archangel blade in one hand and regular angel blade in another, crept through the halls. Upon his first pair of demons he quickly hit one with a slicing uppercut, taking the other through the neck in one swift motion. Breathing heavily, he began looking around again as Asmodeus used his stolen powers to throw Sam back against a wall. 

“Your warding wasn’t designed for the likes of me, Samuel, I’ve come to take what’s mine.” Asmodeus drawled as two more demons holding Gabriel came out of the bunker halls. Gabriel whimpered, looking away,

“Oh I missed you boy, I’ma have to punish you rather severely, I’m af-wait.” Gabriel

whimpered, the demons who had been dragging him up the stairs paused

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur” Asmodeus said, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He asked, a deep groan coming from his usually polite southern drawl. Flicking out his hands and Asmodeus brought a suffocation-like hold to Sam’s throat. “Do you know what that nitwit has done?” Asmodeus turned around, glaring at the being that was once his prize cow, despite blurring vision Sam saw his window of opportunity and quickly threw the archangel blade at Asmodeus, hitting him squarely in the back. With a white wash of light he dropped to the ground. 

“Who's next?!” Sam called out, the rasping only adding to the menacing sound his voice 

had taken on as he was catching his breath. The two demons clinging to Gabriel looked at one another before quickly vanishing as Gabriel dropped to the floor.

“Sam.” he croaked,

“It’s fine, they’re gone.” He said quietly before dropping back to the ground. 

***

“Asmodeus looked pissed.” Sam said for the third time as he paced Gabriel’s room, “why, for all intents and purposes, he had you.” Gabriel winced, “sorry. It’s just.” he paused again, “something isn’t right here.” Gabriel frowned, scratching at the stitching on his arms,

“Hey don’t mess with tha-” Sam froze, “that’s itching?” he asked quietly, Gabriel gave a small nod, still mostly mute from the duration of his time with Asmodeus, Sam walked over, pressing the back of his forearm to a patch of skin near to Gabriel’s stitches, “warm.” he said, brow furrowing, “why are you warm. Your grace should be, your grace.” Gabriel winced again, “the other night, I came in here, your eyes were closed, were you sleeping?” Sam asked incredulously, “are you,” he paused again, “no, no way, because, no. It’s just taking a while to regenerate. That’s all.” 

“Sam,” Gabriel croaked sadly, Sam turned to look at him, “I’m human.” he whispered, crumbling further into a ball.

“No, you can’t be.” Sam said, shaking his head, Gabriel sighed, slouching lower in his spot on the floor. “Because that would mean, that Dean, is stuck in the past without a way home.” He said, voice getting increasingly louder as he ran his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. Meanwhile Gabriel cowered in the corner at the furious tone. The whimpering began again and Sam looked to the corner, “Okay, okay, sorry, sorry.” he said quieting down, he walked over to the corner, sitting next to Gabriel. “How did this happen?” he asked quietly, Gabriel shrugged, “angels don’t just un-angel.” he said, “when it was Cas, his grace had been stripped away by Metatron, but it sounds like Asmodeus was just draining you, your grace should regenerate.” he said, feeling the warm infected skin again, “but apparently not that fast. Hold on.” Sam said, grabbing the antiseptic he’d left in the room from the original stitch work. Sam worked to clean the stitches and continued, “he, it was frequent, wasn’t it?” Gabriel winced again, “okay, sorry, It’s just, if it was a lot, it should be back by now.” he said, “Right?”

“Human.” Gabe croaked,

“Okay, I get it, but how human, why human.” Sam asked, frustration returning to his voice, he shrugged again, unwilling to meet Sam’s usually warm hazel eyes. “You were, you were passed out, when you arrived, right, so, why? What happened? What do you remember? What happened between you in the cage being drained” - another grimace - “and now you here in the bunker with me? I need you to tell me, Gabriel.” he said, rubbing his shoulder gently. Gabe sighed, 

“I was caged, afraid, Ketch took me, killed demons, don’t remember leaving.” he said, curling further in, Sam wrapped his right arm around the angel, whose body was trembling. 

Good work.” he said quietly, dropping his chin on top of Gabriel’s head, “so what happened?” he asked, he could feel Gabe shrug underneath him. Sam unwrapped himself from the angel, “I’m gonna go get you some ibuprofen for those, God had I known this wasn’t going to heal overnight I’d’ve done things a little differently.” he said apologetically.

“S’okay.” Gabe croaked back, “not on purpose.”

“Yeah, not on purpose… So now what?” Sam asked quietly, “What is it, is it a curse? A spell? What has the power to do this?” He could feel Gabriel shrugging underneath him, “I guess we should start with a crash course in how to human.” he said quietly, looking at the angel’s now tangled blond curls. 

***

“For the last time would you HOLD STILL?!” Sam grumbled, trying for the third time as Gabriel squirmed, they’d managed to get Gabriel into a shower well enough, Sam had walked him through how to wash his hair, how to make sure soap fell away from the face and not into the eyes, and Gabriel had managed to brush out the mess when he got out of the shower, but the braid Sam was trying to create was not working. ”This will save us BOTH time if you could JUST stop MOVING.” he grumbled again, Sam couldn’t see from his stance behind Gabriel, but his eyes were rolling,

“Not necessary.” he grumbled back,

“Yes. Necessary. You can leave this in for a couple of days while we go hunt down a cure for this and won’t have to worry about it. It needs done.” he said, yanking hard on a strand. 

***

“You need ‘o ‘o ‘is in circles, not’ u’ and down.” Sam garbled behind his toothbrush, looking at Gabriel,

“W’y.” he asked, continuing to brush up and down,

“I ‘on’t know ask a ‘entist” he said before spitting.

***

“You have to stab your gums with string every day?”

“Twice a day.” Sam responded, which was met with intense groaning.

***

“Dude I am not gonna show you that.”

“Saaaaaam.”

“No way.”

***

“This is exhausting.” Gabriel grumbled, sitting beside Sam on the couch,

“Well, you’re healing, you’re going to be exhausted like that until you’re better.” Sam said, flipping channels, Gabriel groaned, 

“HEY, GET ON THE GROUND!” a police officer yelled at some tweaker on the next channel, Sam could feel Gabriel immediately tense and curl in next to him. Sam bit his lip, opting to wrap his left arm around the shivering angel as he changed the channel to something more light. Neither of them acknowledged it, but Sam didn’t move remove his arm either. 

“Your blood should still have grace in it” Sam said quietly, that could work to get them back, Gabriel shrunk further into Sam’s side. “Hey, hey, we don’t have to do anything until Thursday, okay? It’s only Saturday, you have more time.” Gabe looked up at him and nodded. 

“What do you want to watch?” Sam asked, changing the subject, Gabe opened his mouth to speak but Sam cut him off, “no, I know, porn. Hell no. That one time with Cas was MORE than enough.” he said, shaking his head, Gabriel’s eyes widened,

“What? Good ol’ Cassie? Porn?”

“I, he, he had questions.” Sam said, speaking mostly into his hand that was now pinching the bridge of his nose. Gabriel snickered slightly, Sam smiled. 

“You know,” he started, “I know a thing or two about abuse trauma,” he started, “if you wanted to-”  
“No.” he was cut off, 

“Okay, got it.” he responded, they would come back to this. Sam wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting on the couch, but when reruns of Days of Our Lives started in their over dramatized glory Sam knew it was late.

“Gabe,” he whispered, gently shaking the angel, “I think we fell asleep.” he said quietly, the dry taste of rest did seem to be in his mouth, at the very least. 

“Mmm.” Gabe groaned, flipping over and curling back up against Sam, who sighed and fell back into the couch. He grabbed the remote, turning off the TV and then grabbed a blanket from behind them. 

“Alright, whatever, we start looking into you in the morning.” he grumbled, his words slurring as he fell back asleep. 

April 14th, 2018

“What do you mean you don’t know, Rowena this is your specialty?!” Sam grumbled, the ginger bitch, er, witch, the ginger witch on the other end of an already heated phone call. “Do you think there’s enough grace left i his blood to use a spell to get Dean home?” he paused, listening as she responded, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GRACE SPELL ONLY WORKS ONE WAY?!” He yelled, Gabriel could hear him from the other room, he wasn’t eavesdropping, he was just eavesdropping. “Okay, okay, can you just get here?” he asked, an obvious overlay of frustration in his tone, “okay bye.” Gabriel made himself look busy as Sam entered the room,

“Rowena doesn’t know if it’s gonna work.” He said quietly, “But, it has to, because we can’t leave my brother trapped in 1963.” he said, rubbing at his temple. Gabriel just nodded. “Still not saying much I see.” Sam mumbled, his jaw set. He knew the effects of abuse, he knew this was normal, but the layer of solitude in the air of the bunker was just unsettling. “Well, she’s coming. She should be here this afternoon to take a look at you.” he said to Gabe before wandering off. He couldn’t deal with the prospect of company for the actuality to be so disappointing, at least not right now. With the looming feeling of bad news rolling in and his mood on edge Sam opted to go lock himself in the library, at least hunting cases would busy his brain, if nothing else.

***

“He’s in here.” Sam said quietly, opening the door to Gabriel’s room for Rowena,

“Hello Gabriel,” Rowena said with a smile, “I hear our wee angel is a bit under the weather.” she added, smile never wavering, “well, rest assured Auntie Rowena is on the case.” she said, poking his nose - gently so as not to disturb the cut on his upper lateral cartilage. Rowena pulled out her spell book and began casting small enchantments, watching Gabriel’s response, and making notes on a page as she went. Almost hummingbird like in her diligence she walked through spell after spell, testing different hypotheses and making note of the effects, desired or not. When she finished, she paused and handed her notebook to Sam,

“Samuel,” she started, “let’s go to my office.”

“Uh, your office?” Sam scoffed,

“Indeed.” she said, as leading him to the bunker’s library, a half eaten tuna sandwich and his laptop were still on the closest table. Sam quickly moved them and set the book down.

“Lunch good then?” she said, an eyebrow piqued,

“Yeah, great, now Gabriel.”

“Right. The angel. Here’s the thing, Samuel.” she started, “my tests, they say he isn’t one dear.”

“Right, yes, I know, he seems human, how do we fix it?” Sam asked,

“That’s the thing dear, if there were a spell or, or enchantment, a potion of some sort masking his angelic abilities, I would’ve found it.”

“What are you saying.”

“That whatever happened to him, it’s not a mask, there’s no counter curse, it’s a permanent feature. Not intended for removal. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“What did I tell you Samuel? Ever. Aye you wee Winchester boys never were the listening type were you.”

“Wh-wh-what do I do then?” Sam stammered out,

“I don’t know? Toss ‘im out on the street like the dirty beggar he is now?” She said with a shrug, Sam frowned,

“No way, there’s got to be a way to fix this, there’s always a way. You’re at full power now and you’re telling me you can’t do anything?!”

“Samuel.” She said, grabbing his hands, “I can’t bestow power, and from what I can tell there is nothing to restore.” she said quietly, “I wish I could be of more help to you truly, having an archangel in my debt? Well that would be something wouldn’t it.” Sam pursed his lips,

“Right. Personal gain. The ultimate motive.”  
“ I am nothing if not fair Samuel” she chirped. 

“Right.”

“You know I’d do a great many things for you and your brother. If there were something I could do here, it would be done.” she said softly, rubbing Sam’s shoulder, Sam just sighed in defeat. 

***

“Forever?” Gabriel asked, Sam watching as his entire posture sunk,

“I, that’s what Rowena said, but there's always a way. We just have to keep thinking.” He said quietly, “always.”

“What about Thursday?”

“Well, the spell doesn’t work in that direction anyway” he grumbled, fuck fine print, “so we’re back to the drawing board.” Sam said quietly. Gabriel nodded. "You don't still happen to have your wings do you? A human but with wings?" Sam chided, Gabriel just rolled his eyes, "yeah thought not." Sam grumbled. "Okay, there's gotta be something we're missing." Sam stopped again, he looked to the angel, or well, human he guessed, still healing from the abuse, puncture holes in his lips were healing, the cut on his nose scabbed over, the color had been returning to his almost translucent skin. Things were looking better, even if they were still bleak. "I'm gonna go look for another case." Sam grumbled. 

***

"So I think I found something." Sam stifled a yawn, stretching his arms as Gabriel entered the room. "Scranton, Pennsylvania." He started, "Looks like a simple cursed object, I'm going, you can go with me or you can-" Sam trailed off, Gabriel was shaking his head. "Okay, well, I'll leave you a card then and will head out myself." Sam shrugged, "should be pretty quick anyway."

March 10th, 1963

“Welcome to the Caravan, where are you headed, weary travelers?” a chipper man asked as Dean and Castiel approached an orange VW Bus, his hair pulled taught in a long ponytail, browns mixed with greys with a nice layer of grease coating the follicles. His dingy leather jacket with small frays and bell bottom jeans completed the look, his teeth crooked and glasses cracked this was a man of little means, but Cas and Dean had been traveling on foot for a day and a half, their energy depleted and the trail lost they just needed a place to exist while waiting for Sam and Gabriel to bring them home. 

“We seek passage, we are headed towards Reidsville, can you take us?” Cas asked, the man’s lips pursed, eyeing Castiel up and down,

“My next trip was actually to Reidsville, word on the street is it’ll be worth checking out tonight if you’re picking up what I’m putting down. 

“Yeah, whatever you say Janis, we’re in.” He said, grumbling, 

“What are your names?” He asked

“I’m Art, that’s Paul.” he said, shrugging to Cas.

“Righteous. I’m Flowing Mane,” he said, no hint of humor on his face,

“You have a nickname?”

“No.” He said with a peaceful smile. Dean turned to Cas, pinching his fingers together and miming taking a hit, brows raising, Cas nodded slowly, wincing slightly with the movement.

***

“Okay, who is ready for the second verse?” Flowing Mane asked, cheering erupted from the other travelers, Marshall, Daisy, and Sarah, exactly how stoned they were Dean didn’t know - but he was definitely not ready.

“Hey, guys, c’mon, why don’t we just crank the tunes? Make this a real party bus huh?” Dean asked, trying to sway away from the off tune rendition of You Don’t Own Me. 

“Right you are Art,” Flowing Mane said, eyes twinkling at him from the rearview mirror, “everyone, we’re at a mezzo, a sad, sad mezzo, let’s crank this full forte for Art!” He said, to the cheering of the caravan. Cas shot daggers at Dean with the iciest glare he could possibly muster. Outside for two days in the muggy Florida heat he’d managed to garner quite the headache and was on the verge of murder, #JustHumanThings as Claire would likely put it. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head behind closed lids, this was not the ‘tunes’ he had had in mind.

Cas leaned onto Dean, using his shoulder to buff the sound of the joyous hippies as much as possible, at least from one ear anyway. 

“These fuckers really starting early eh Cas? Someone tell ‘em Woodstock isn’t for six more years.” he said quietly, leaning toward Cas’ free ear. Cas grunted quietly, a good joke fatally ignored. Dean at least knew he was funny. He sighed, mentally running through the last few days.

From the twenty dollar bill Dean had pocketed prior to the confiscation of everything they owned, Dean managed to do well, two dress shirts, two ties, two pair of dress pants all for $5.47, leaving $15.53 , not the budget they had planned on, but they were only here for a few more days anyway, cross or not. When Thursday March 14th came, Sam and Gabriel were going to pull them back. They had to get the damn cross. They had to. There was no plan B. 

Another round of singing commenced and Dean shrunk back into his seat, the resting and irritable Cas groaning quietly, he was not having a good time with human emotions - they were not a fun look on the poor bastard.

“Mmph” Cas groaned as Marshall accidentally kneed him while dancing around in the back seat. 

“Hey, knock it off!” Dean griped, much to Marshall’s displeasure.

“Hey, hey, Marshall, Art, - do we have a problem back there?” Flowing Mane asked, a parental tone coming from the man,

“No sir.” Dean grumbled, Cas just groaned again, Marshall rolled his eyes, leaning back into his seat. Dean pulled Cas just a little closer, glaring at the man.

“Kid I will end you.” he hissed, Dean’s brows dropped into a glare, finding himself irritated at the prospect of this douche for another hour. Awesome.

***

“Okay Cas,” Dean said quietly, “Let’s go get that cross.” He said, fake badge in hand, clothes on and ready after changing in a park bathroom. 

“Dean,” Cas said, grimacing again as he covered his eyes from the bright light, “Do you even believe it will be there?” he asked quietly, 

“Yes, Castiel.” he said, lengthening his name with irritated intent, “I’m sure it will. There’s no way something that fancy is going anywhere fast. Reidsville was on Ketch’s destination list was it not?”

“Yeah, of course it was.” Dean said, pulling the crumpled paper out of his pocket and handing it to Castiel, Cas’ eyes widened and then quickly narrowed, 

“Dean,” he said quietly, “we’re in Reidsville, Georgia.”  
“Yeah, and?” Dean motioned,

“This says Reidsville, North Carolina.” he said quietly, handing Dean back the paperwork,

“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean screeched, pulling his fingers through his hair before punching the tree beside him, swaying in the wind that was gently working its way through the park.

“Sam is going to bring us back in four days. We don’t have time.” Cas said quietly, as Dean punched another tree,

“Well, Cas, I guess we just enjoy 1963 then.” he said quietly, “we have no transportation, Reidsville is a three days drive from here, on day four we have no idea when we’re going to be pulled home, we have no chance of catching it they must’ve flown. What do we even do.”

“Know of any Gods in 1963?” Cas chided,

“Hah, sure Cas, let me just pull one out of my ass.”

“Right.”

“What? NO! Not RIGHT!?”

“My apologies Dean.” Cas finished.

***

“Two beers please.” Dean said, walking up to the bar,

“Hah, sure thing kid, let’s see some ID.”

“ID? Sure.” Dean said, pulling his license out of his wallet, handing it to the man. The bartender looked at Cas, 

“Yours too then.” he added, Cas quickly obliged, “Perfect, thank you boys.” He said, pulling a pair of scissors from behind the bar, cutting them in half, and then handing them back.

“THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Dean screeched,

“Forty my ass, kid go home to mommy and daddy, no beer for you.”

“SON OF A BITCH.” He yelled, slamming his fist onto the counter,

“SECURITY!” the bartender called out, two burly men walked over to the bar, “please escort these fine gentlemen out of my establishment. And don’t come back until you’re 21.” He called out after them as the two guards threw them out of the joint.

“Awesome.” Dean grumbled, “No beer, and no IDs for the rest of our time in 1963? FUCK THIS.” he yelled, storming off. On the sidewalk fuming Dean paced, the hot evening air had turned to a humid drizzle and the rain slowly drenched the boys,

“Come on Cas, we need to get out of this.” Dean spat, water spraying off his lips with each syllable.

“Okay.” He yelled back as lightning struck the sky above them,

“Come on.” Dean yelled, grabbing for his hand and making a mad dash for the nearest hotel, a shabby little place on 45th, the two boys walked into the worst excuse for a lobby Dean had ever seen. 

“Hey,” he said walking up to the counter,

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” the receptionist asked, eyeing the boys

“We need a room for three nights.” Dean said hopefully, the receptionist glaring at them

“Can I see some ID?” he asked, “ I can’t give rooms to minors.” He drawled, 

“Come on Cas, let’s go.” Dean said, grabbing Cas and pushing him forward,

“Can’t sell to fags either” he yelled out, Dean’s teeth barred, an angry growl emanating from his throat,

“Dean, stop, you know you’re not, and he’s not worth your time.” he said, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show him a fag.” He grumbled,

“I’m fairly certain he already believes you did, Dean.”

“Shut up.” Dean griped, he pause, “Sorry man, you still have that headache?” He asked, Cas nodded.

“Try to drink some of the rain water, you’re probably dehydrated.” Cas just scowled, “or we could spend some of the money on ibuprofen.” he grumbled, walking ahead, “Come on, we need to find somewhere I can sleep this off.” he griped.

“Fine, fine.” A rolling boom of thunder overhead interrupted him

“Let’s go.” Dean said as Castiel grimaced again.

***

Three more miserable hotels rejected them as they walked through the night, the temperature dropping considerably over the passage of time, its lasting effects on the night leaving Dean and Castiel in shivering tatters. The Honest Motel on 4th was the last on the strip, low on energy and low on morale they walked in.

“Look, I have no ID, I need three days, I have ten dollars, make it happen.” Dean snarled at the receptionist who looked shocked,

“Fine. You’ll be in room three.” The receptionist said, slowly handing over the key. “No funny business Mr. and Mr. Smith.” He said pointedly, placing the key in Dean’s open palm.

“Thanks.” Dean grumbled, watching the majority of their money find its way into the pocket of the receptionist. 

“First door down the second hall.” 

“Thank you.” Cas gruffly called back. The two entered the hotel room and found themselves a staggering ten feet from the back wall. The tiny space had a single bed, no space for two would be giants of the species. 

“You take the bed,” Dean said gruffly, “I’ll take the floor.”

“What, why?” Cas squinted,

“I’d do it for Sammy, I’ll do it for you.” he paused, Cas grumbled, “Great. Okay. You go shower. We have $5.53 left.” Dean grumbled, Cas nodded locking himself into the tiny bathroom.

Turning the tap Cas ran a stream of water over his hand, quickly dressing down he stepped into the cool water, salt and grim running off his aching human body. Using the small bar of soap he quickly washed off, drying and returning to the room. Dean gave him a look of confusion,

“Why are you shivering? Where’s the steam?” he asked, “Dumbass. Get in bed.’ He snapped, Cas glared but obliged, “showers do have a warm setting dude.” 

“It is not of import.” Cas stuttered out. 

“Uh, yeah, it is ‘of import’, dude, you’re human now, huge import.” he stressed, making his way in. 

By the time Dean finished up in the bathroom, Castiel was asleep in the small bed, Dean found his way to the floor. Curled up with a jacket over his torso and an arm under his head Dean closed his eyes, trying to get some rest.

He had managed to fall half asleep when a dust bunny found its way up his nose, quickly swiping at his face he groaned - quietly so as not to wake Castiel.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

April 15th, 2018

"You have my number in case of emergency," the question was met with nodding, "and you know not to call the police." More nodding, a good sign "and no porn stars." The movement stopped and was replaced with a scowl. Sam crossed his arms and glared, Gabriel sighed, dramatically rolled his eyes and nodded one slow, irritated nod. "Good." And with that Sam left Gabriel alone in the bunker, headed for his case in Scranton, PA. 

***

Starting up the Impala without Dean was always a mixed bag of emotions, first it was fun and exhilarating in the way a kid stealing candy from his parents would be, it was freeing and petrifying at the same time, but with the situation at hand, the fact that Dean wasn’t beside him, that Dean wasn’t there to go with him, it was this pit in his stomach he couldn’t get to go away, like a snake slowly coiling - the feeling crept up onto him ready to consume his brain. He couldn’t let it. 

“Well, Dean, wherever you are, I hope this hurt.” He said with a dark chuckle as he grabbed his secret stash of Celine Dion cassettes out of his bag, gently pushing Unison into the cassette slot. With a smirk he put Baby in drive, seventeen hours and seven minutes according to google - he was pretty sure he could beat that time. He dropped his foot to the ground and with a squeal he was off. 

***

Alone, behind the pair of bars blocking his view, Gabriel shivered. His fingers were wrapped around the bars, he could feel rust chipping beneath his finger tips. Screaming between tied lips and rattling the bars he fell to tears at the back of the cage. Scrubbing at the twine on his face, demons entered the room.

“Gabriel,” the first hissed, “bath time” he smiled with vicious delight as he dropped a bucket of icy water onto Gabriel’s long, matted hair. Had to be a gallon bucket at least as it drenched the shivering angel. “Good boy.” he hissed, entering the cage. An enormous needle the size of a femur was dropped into Gabriel’s clavicle, he could feel it crawling down and around his collar bone and into the grace reserves held just above the heart. The motion stopped, and with a grin the demon began pulling the grace slowly from the reservoir, leaving only the smallest traces to force regeneration. “This is getting a little skimpy, having trouble getting it up?” he laughed, Gabriel just nodded along, rolling back and forth in a tiny ball as the syringe had been removed. 

“Little cunt.” the other demon grumbled, “boss is gonna have our asses if he doesn’t start pumping out more.” 

“I mean, wanna go for round two?” he asked, grin widening, Gabriel screamed again, thrashing as another bucket of icy water fell onto him. “Yeah, I think you do.” the demon said as he draped a wet towel over Gabriel’s head. 

As the third bucket of water drenched Gabriel, his eyes opened to the dimly lit bunker, his breathing rapid and eyes quickly examining the room. Drenched in sweat he was laying in bed, arms sprawled and fingers clenched desperately around the blankets. He could feel the sweat on his lip and quickly moved to wipe it away, wincing when he found it wasn’t sweat but blood, he groaned - apparently sleep scratching at wounds made humans bleed. Great. He finished wiping at the blood on his face and began to get up, stretching his actually shivering body - a fresh layer of nightmare induced sweat coating himself and the bed. 

“Great. Just great.” he grumbled, pulling out his phone he pulled up Sam’s number, “how do you clean bedding here, asking for a friend.” send. He pulled the soaked sheets off the bed and piled them up in the corner of the room before walking off to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Streaks of blood from scratched open scabs and oozing clear fluid dotted his lips, bright purple bags tinted the otherwise translucent skin beneath his eyes. Gabriel sighed, another shiver rolling through his body. He turned on the tap and waited for the water to warm. He bent down, rummaging through the Winchesters’ vanity until he found a small washcloth, disregarding the many medical supplies - and the lube and condoms that were stashed in the back, though he did make reference in his brain for later. Cloth under the water, he brought it to his mouth, the white cotton turning red with each micromovement. Gabriel winced with each touch bringing a new wave of pain. When he finished up he just looked like a teenager who found a self piercing gun on Craigslist and went to town, but at least he didn’t look like a torture victim anymore. Humanity - so not worth it. 

When Gabriel finished up in the bathroom, Sam had responded

“Don’t have a w/d, go to laundromat. Bring qtrs. Bring soap, bring basket. Wash first, then dry, use soap in wash not dry. 1312 W Anderson is the closest one. Is walking distance - or you can take one of the classics - don’t fuck it up. Made it to Gary, IN before I stopped yesterday - halfway there!” Gabriel smiled at the positivity,

“Good work Sammy.” and send. 

“Don't call me Sammy.”

“Damn that was fast.”

“Wtv, gotta drive. Text or call if you need me.”

“10-4 good buddy” Gabe put the phone away, gathering his bedding and throwing it into the laundry basket he found - though, why the Winchesters bothered to put decorative pine cones in their laundry basket while not in use made no sense to him. He chalked it up to gay culture and moved on. 

“Okay, there’s that, now laundry soap.” he said, wincing as pain growing steadily in his head throbbed. He scrubbed at his face, stubble - weird. His face felt like sandpaper against his hand. “Soap, soap, AH Soap! Seventh generation powered by plants” he read, squinting, “okay, laundry soap - check.” he said, throwing the bottle into his basket. “Quarters, okay, we can do quarters.” he said, another shiver rolling through his body - maybe he should shower? Nah, laundromats were for washing, right? Of course you can wash everything there, he’d just wait. Okay. Okay quarters. He began trifling through the drawers, beside, kitchen, sick bay, dungeon, library, and while he didn’t find any change, he found about twenty tiny Tupperware sets with salt and holy water in them, thirteen fake IDs, twelve packs of matches, seven handguns, four random pages with Latin incantations scribbled hastily on them, and one decommissioned hex bag. While the boys had a plethora of things, money did not seem to be one of those things. 

“Goddamn poor ass Winchesters.” Gabriel grumbled, stretching his arms over his head to try to relieve some of the aching tension in his back as another shiver rolled through him. “Goddamn humanity.” he sniffed, grabbing the basket and finding his way map room, he sat with his basket and pulled out his cell phone,

“Gabriel, what’s going on?” Sam asked as he answered the phone, 

“Y-you don’t have any quarters.” he grumbled, stammering slightly as more tremors ran through his body.

“Yes we do, okay you need to go to the -god damnit, hold on.” Sam said, Gabriel paused, listening in as sirens entered the speaker.

“License and registration please.” Gabriel could hear very quietly though the phone, 

“Great.” he grumbled, hanging up the phone. “This is too difficult” he grumbled, finding his way to the couch where he and Sam had watched TV the other night and curled himself in, draping a blanket over his body and closing his eyes while he waited for Sam to call back.  
***

“License and registration please” the officer told Sam who quickly obliged, “thank you.” the officer responded as he walked back to his car to run the numbers. Sam frowned, looking at his phone - great - Gabriel hung up. Swell. Whatever, bigger fish. 

“Do you know why I pulled you over today son?”  
“No, sir.” Sam said, looking at the officer, 

“Being on the phone while driving is considered distracted, it’s a no go.”

“But officer, I have my phone right here, you can check the logs it was off.” Sam said, handing the officer his phone. The officer obliged, taking the phone from Sam, and sure enough no activity was recorded. 

“You know, you could’ve easily deleted these son.” the officer said, “ I was born a day, but it wasn’t yesterday.”

“No, sir. I’m actually,” he paused, pulling the ID that matched the license provided, “Federal Officer Grant from Oklahoma City, I was just passing through on my way to a case I’ve been called to.”

“I see, well, officer, I’m sure if you were on your phone, it must’ve been important, and you won’t be doing it again.” he said, eyeing Sam, who smiled and nodded, “at ease, have a good one.”  
“And you as well.” Sam said, waving him off. After a good few miles had been put between himself and officer douche canoe he attempted to call Gabriel back, but unfortunately it went to voicemail. If he would just check the damn cookie jar above the fridge - the one shaped like a cheeseburger that Dean bought when they were thrift shopping for gear one day - he’d find like $30 worth of quarters, but oh well. Gabe could wait. He had been driving for three hours already, only seven more to reach Scranton. Didn’t have time for Gabriel’s bull sheet as Dean would put it. He snickered internally, and turned the volume dial up just a titch higher, finding his time better spent jamming with his girl Celine than worrying over the struggles of angels. 

***

“Fuck” Gabriel grumbled as looked at the phone clock, “Seven thirty, fuck, I slept for seven and a half friggin hours.” He groaned, placing his palms on his face and pulling at it roughly. “Friggin humanity.” He woke up to a text from Sam detailing where to find the quarters, and after a minute of searching he was able to gather enough money to wash it. He quickly filled the car he opted to take and followed google maps to his destination. He did learn to drive as an angel, when you don’t have a home address or a car humans get suspicious and find sex with you much less appealing in his experience - so he learned. 

The laundromat was a dingy building on the corner of 84th, a welcome sign the only trace of people, peeling porcelain paint marked the outer walls, overgrown shrubs and a cracked parking lot the only outer décor. Grabbing his basket Gabe got out of the car, walking his way into the joint. Upon entry Gabriel immediately sneezed - apparently this vessel had a dust allergy before? Ugh. The shelves were lined with dust, which matched very nicely with the ceiling lined with cobwebs. Rust mottled every machine, the coin slots the only thing that looked like they even might work. Gabriel sighed, he was used to ultra rich porn stars - not Winchester poverty - fun. He quickly walked up to a triple load washer and shoved in his sweat-covered bedding, eyeing the front counter that was still devoid of people. He guessed that must be why they like the place and moved on. He quickly took out his soap and filled the little dispenser per the faded labels on the front of the machine. He quickly inserted five coins into the slot and took a seat near his machine, pulling out his phone to try to pass the time. A vintage pin up laundromat poster in the corner of the room wasn’t quite enough to break the monotony of dingy grey walls and boring ancient machinery. 

***

“Finally!” Sam groaned, arriving at the Econo Lodge in Scranton PA, spending the majority of his time driving had been less than ideal but only stopping a few hours in Gary really paid off as he arrived and could start the case. He did suppose he should probably check in on Gabriel, but realistically how much trouble could he have possibly gotten into as a human during that time? I mean, as an angel, sure, no problem, but as a human? Nah. Sam scrubbed his face with his hands before exiting the car, he quickly went to check in. Key in hand, room A13 was all his for the next week. 

Covered in rustic style décor, a pair of antlers stared back at him upon entry of the room, brown walls with darker accents and flannel curtains trimmed the place, a comforter seemingly made of jean material with a flannel underside lay on the bed that made up nicely by staff, a small reading lamp on a decent bedside table completed the room furnishings. A small mini fridge, microwave, and coffee pot made up the tiny kitchen, a jacuzzi tub rounding out the bathroom. Sam dropped his bags on the left side of the bed, locking his IDs in the little safe before heading back to the Impala. 

“Okay, let’s get some grub.” Sam said quietly, he quickly looked through the Google results for the area, “Ultra Recyclo Vegetarian Faire” Sam read off quietly, it piqued his interest, and Dean would never let them go, so, why not? 

***

“How many for ya?” the hostess asked as he entered the room,

“Uh, just one please.” he responded,

“Alright, come on this way.” she said, taking him to a table in the back corner. The entire place was green, potted plants and succulents were in the windows, hanging from the ceiling, a small one sat on his table. He chuckled, Dean would hate this. He would also hate Celine playing in his Baby, or Sam driving for that matter. Sure, he missed his brother, he was worried about how things were going, but they’d pull him back. They have a few more days to figure something out before the agreed upon deadline. Besides, Gabriel could feel better by then, who knows? He lulled himself into a place of reassurance and began to review the menu. 

The waitress walked up to him, pale and thin, she towered over him and the table, her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun with eyes a miraculous purple hued blue, her full lips accented by a center labret piercing. 

“What can I get for you today?” She asked with a smile, tapping her combat boots gently on the floor, bouncing her toe on the cement. 

“Oh, I’ll have a Pilsner.” he said, “thanks.”

“Can I see some ID?” she asked, her lips that she had tinted purple pursed as she waited, 

“Of course.” he said, pulling out his identification.

“Perfect, I’ll be right back with that.” She said with a smile. Sam went back to reviewing the options when the bell rang with another entry to the room,

“Sam!” the voice called out, 

“Just a sec!” the waitress called back, Sam frowned, not because of the interaction, but because he knew that voice.

“Aaron?!” Sam called out,

“Wha-Sam?!” he said,

“I’m COMING hold ON!” the waitress called back,

“What, no, I, no.” Aaron called back, “Hold on babe.”

“Holding on.”

“Sam, hey man, how’s it going.” Aaron said, walking up to Sam and holding out his hand, Sam shook it welcoming him over.

“Not great.” he said with a laugh, “You know, work.”

“OH, no it’s fine we can get into it.” Aaron said with a laugh, “Sam, baby come back here.” She returned, dropping the Pilsner off with Sam, before letting herself relax a bit, “Sam, this is Sam - Samantha.” He said with a smile,

“Your ID said Harold Garland.” she said with a slight frown,

“Babe, he’s old enough, I promise.” Aaron said, she rolled her eyes,

“Can I get my order in before this powwow, I drove ten hours today.” Sam asked sheepishly, Samantha laughed, and nodded,

“Whatever you recommend, just order that for me.”  
“One ultra-recyclo burger coming up!” She said with a smirky smile, heading back to the kitchen to drop the order off. 

“Man what are you doing out here?!” Aaron asked with a smile,

“Well, I’m here to work a case.”

“Oh yeah, maybe we’re on the same one? People showing up to Gold’s Pawn and miraculously ending up dead a few days later?”

“That’s the one!” Sam said with a laugh, “Man, I was gonna work with Gabriel on this but he didn’t want to come, and Dean, well he’s trapped right now so I mean man if you wanna work this with me.”

“Wait, wait, hold on a second, Gabriel who?”  
“The archangel.”

“What? I thought he?”

“Yeah, he’s still alive. Was being tortured. Ketch stole him from Asmodeus before going back to 1963 leaving Gabe under my supervision.”  
“What?! 1963?! What’s he doing there?!”  
“Trying to find a cross, with Cas, and Dean.”

“That’s insane.”

“Dude, I know. So anyways if you wanted to partner up for this case?”  
“You said he’s trapped??”

“Well, yeah. He, Gabriel he, we were banking on his wings to get them back, no more grace for time travel spells - which also don’t work ‘that way’ did you know that? I didn’t. Anyway, until I can figure out a way to restore him to full angel Dean is stuck.”

“Wow dude, that’s some crazy shit.”

“I know.”

“What all have you tried?”

“Well, I went to Rowena, Crowley’s mom, you remember them right? Well I went to her, but no dice.” he said quietly. Aaron opened his mouth to add something when Sam cut him off, “So, how did you and Sam meet?” he asked, genuinely sick of thinking about his own problems,

“Oh Sam and me? Yeah well okay I was working a case with some guys down south right, and in comes this badass hunter babe, decked out in combat boots and a plaid mini skirt - man she was a dream.” he snorted, “Saved my ass, got my number, we went for coffee, she told me how she got into the life, I told her about Judah, the rest is history.” he said dreamily.

“How did she get involved? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine. So, she was a kid - fourteen or so - back around ‘05, well, anyway, her best friend’s dad was a bumbling eccentric type - almost Ghost Facers bad, anyway, he made this crazy” Adam started playing with his hands as if trying to materialize an answer,

“He tried to make a physical portal to tap the veil.” Samantha said, walking up on the conversation,

“Why on Earth would he do that?” Sam asked in shock,

“His idiocy was profound - somehow opening a hole into space time to let the vengeful spirits from the veil over into our world was actually in the name of hunting.” Sam said sarcastically, “he nearly killed his son in the process when things went haywire - his son was electrocuted, he was left permanently disfigured from the accident.” she said, sitting down beside Aaron,

“Don’t you have waitressing to do?” Sam asked, surprised that she was joining them, 

“My restaurant, I do what I want, besides do you see any other patrons?” she said with a smile,

“Wait, you own..?”

“Yep!” she said, kicking up her feet on the bench Sam was sitting on,

“Why?” he asked genuinely, “if you’re a hunter, why bother with all of this?” He asked,

“Dude, look around.” she said, motioning around her, first he noticed the wrought iron door handles and light fixtures, he looked closer at the plants - common herbs and items used in spell craft,

“The building’s foundation has a layer of salt stone placed into it, beneath the wallpaper there are protection and concealment sigils, all of the utensils are recycled silver I found at local thrift stores, the waters are all holy, oh, and those Angel blades” she pointed to some blades hanging behind him on the wall, “legitimate.” she smirked at the look of awe on his face, “I’ve turned some hunters to the ultra recyclo life with this place.” she smiled fondly, “come for the safety stay for the ultra recyclo burger!” she said with a laugh,

“Wow, sounds like you guys are doing good work here.” Sam said with a smile, his reality crashing slowly back in. 

“So, Sam, you’re here for Job’s Antiques?” Aaron asked, changing the subject back to the case, 

“Er, uh, yeah.” With the body count it clearly needs some investigation.” Sam said, a small bell rang from the kitchen and Sam hopped up, grabbing Sam’s dinner and setting it down in front of him. 

“Soup’s on!” She said with a smile, the food in front of him looked like a burger made of actual grass - well what the hell. He took a bite, chewing slowly, 

“Wow,” he said, covering his mouth with his fist, “this is pretty good.” he added with a chuckle before going in for a second bite. Sam smiled in satisfaction, brushing a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. “My brother, Dean, he’d hate this.” Sam said with a laugh, much to Samantha’s distaste. 

“I should get back to it, Sam, it was nice meeting you, Aaron, I’ll see you at home tonight.” She said with a smile, kissing his cheek before sauntering back off to the kitchen. 

“So, I was going to do some research on this all tonight, want to meet up tomorrow to work the case?” Sam asked hopefully, 

“Yeah, sure thing man.” Aaron said with a smile, 

“The uh, quicker we wrap this, the better.” Sam said, stuttering slightly, “so the more the merrier on this one. Really.” he said,

“Dude, what happened? Why didn’t you go back with Dean?” Aaron asked, immediately seeing what was going through Sam’s head 

“I’m supposed to use Gabriel to bring Dean back in three days, which I couldn’t do if Gabriel wasn’t a hundred percent, Ketch couldn’t stay and do it because we can’t trust him and Cas, man you know Cas there’s no way he would’ve stayed willingly. It’s not like he’s any better than a human at restoring Gabriel - it’s not like a lower level angel can heal an archangel, so it was like may as well let him go but, god damnit I miss them.” he said quietly, Aaron nodded, frowning slightly.

“So, I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m about to start my residency, maybe I could help?” Aaron said quietly, 

“Wait what?”  
“Med school, man, it’s what I was doing before hunting, I re-enrolled last year after I took out the last of the Judah Initiative. I was really close to finishing.” he said “I’m still mad Dean got to kill Hitler by the way - that kill should’ve been mine - he’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Pf I thought you weren’t flirting.”  
“Who said it couldn’t be both?” Aaron shrugged, “doesn’t matter, you’re brother’s straight and I have Samantha.” He said with a happy smile,

“Oh, yeah totally.” Sam smirked, “mhm.” Aaron piqued an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. “But, I mean, yeah, he’s basically human now, if you didn’t mind looking at him, it couldn’t hurt could it?” Sam asked, Aaron nodded, 

“The second this case is over, we head for Lawrence then.”

“Great.” Sam said with a smile, a slight wash of relief flooding him, it wasn’t that they had an answer, he knew what long shots looked like and this was one, but even having a plan in place made things feel just that much better. 

***

“You used WHAT SOAP IN MY MACHINES!?” Greta raged, staring down the shivering Gabriel, towering over him at a lanky 5’9” and seemingly ready to kill,

“I, I, it was the, this one.” he said, shakily holding out the dish soap to her review,

“That is DISH SOAP you IDIOT.” she yelled, snatching the bottle from his hand and tossing it into his basket, irritated beyond belief at the suds escaping the machine. 

“I’m sorry!” Gabriel cried out, cowering further from the woman, 

“You absolute imbecile DID YOUR MOTHER NEVER TEACH YOU TO WASH PROPERLY?!!?”

“Oh, well I”  
“No, you were born in a barn.” she spat, “Oh holy mother of Jesus may our lord and savior give me the strength not to cut a bitch.” she hissed, palms held together in prayer before she began slinking away, “clean up the mess you’ve made, put another load through the wash, don’t use soap.” she grouched, Gabriel sighed, looking down at his quarter count, he could do another wash sure, but no dry. Covered in suds it wouldn’t do to dry them now, so he quickly obliged Greta, moving machines and starting another wash load before working to clean the dingy floor that was now covered in a fluffy coat of soap bubbles. 

***

When the laundry had finished, and the floor had been cleaned, Gabriel apologized to Greta once again and left the shop, sopping wet betting carefully folded in the basket and placed in the trunk of the car as he began to drive back to the bunker.

***

“Okay, just put them back the way they were.” Gabe said quietly, not that anyone could hear him, but without angel radio or Sam around things had begun to get lonely, he began pulling at the corners of the wet sheets, pulling them taught over the bed, covering each corner and then moving on to the next blanket. By the time he had finished it was some time past nine and exhaustion had begun to bury him, so fully clothed he pulled back the freshly made bed, sliding himself into the wet bedding like a packed sardine, before shivering himself to sleep.

March 11th, 1963

Morning quickly came, Cas having had a good night’s rest, Dean not so much. The tossing and turning caused by the barely carpeted floor and thin Goodwill jacket meant his entire body ached.

“Still fricken feel forty.” he grumbled as he woke up, massaging at his aching shoulders.

“Good morning Dean.” Cas said with a sniff, smashing his face into his hands.

“Cas.” he grumbled, “there should be breakfast or somethin’ waiting out there, or at least coffee.” he said, ruffling his hair with his hands.

“Mmm.” Cas groaned,

“Pf, and you call me a bad morning person.” Dean grumbled, getting up and attempting to get ready for the morning with one set of clothing, five bucks in his pocket, and no deodorant. “I’m gonna go, want me to bring you anything?” Dean asked, Cas grumbled, shaking his head he squinted as his blurred in his vision tried to focus, “No.” he grumbled, 

“You okay?”  
“Headache.”

“Water it is, okay Cas. I’ll be back.” he called out. 

***

“So,” Dean said, munching on a bagel, “what in the 60s would you like to do today?”

“What in the 1960s?” he grumbled,

“Well, we have what two more full days here? May as well have some fun right?” Dean asked, “Or I mean, we can hunt gods I guess, but I honestly have no idea how we’ll bring one home. With the cross out we just need to regroup when we get home.” he said, “besides, we’re straight white dudes, the 1960s were made specifically for us..” Dean said, grinning at Cas.

“Right.” He grumbled, hand still on his face.

“Painkillers still on the menu?” Dean asked, concern in his tone, Cas nodded. 

“Okay, we do that first then.”

“Doctor Dean on the case.” Cas grumbled, all the while Dean seemed absolutely delighted. 

“Hell yeah he is. Come on. Let’s get you some ibuprofen before I have to prescribe bed rest and fluids.” Dean said with a laugh, grabbing Cas by the shoulders and lugging him off the bed, much to Cas’ displeasure as he paused and swayed finding his stance. Dean patted his shoulder a couple times before letting go and the two were off. 

***

“Dean” Cas grumbled, “We’re in 1963.”

“Yes?”

“Ibuprofen wasn’t invented yet. We need Panadol.” 

“Panadol?”  
“Just, could you for this once trust me on this?” he grumbled, “It’s 1960s Tylenol.” he grumbled,

“Ten four Cas.” Dean said, no quip to follow - his angel had clearly seen better days. Wait, his angel?

***

“A whole $1.23, on friggin Tylenol.”

“It is necessary.” Cas grumbled, grabbing the box from Dean

“I know Cas.” He said quietly, looking at his friend who was swaying in place again.

“Okay, well, let’s get this paid for and go.” he said, “I still want to enjoy the 60s with you.” he said sheepishly, 

“Okay Dean.”

***

“Cas when I said I wanted to enjoy the 60s I didn’t really have this in mind.” Dean grumbled as the two walked through an enormous flower garden in the middle of town,

“It reminds me of my favorite heaven.” Cas said quietly, 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, not probing for more but curiosity piqued,

“Yes. The perpetual Tuesday afternoon of a man, it was beautiful.” he said quietly,

“Sounds, pleasant.” Dean said, “I liked Ash’s methods better, personally.” Dean said with a small chuckle, Cas made a face, “what?” Dean asked,

“Ash broke many rules.”

“So have you dude.”

“Yes. That isn’t.. Heaven thrives on order, chaos, well, to put it bluntly, it shoves the sticks farther up their asses.” He said, much to Dean’s amusement, 

“Whoa man,” he said with a laugh,  
“What?” he snapped,

“I mean, I get it, they’re dicks but - ohhh.” he paused, smirking, “they took it out on you, didn’t they, when they found out.” Dean asked, Cas didn’t respond, opting instead to glare at some flowers, 

“You humans.” he grumbled, “have had me in immense amounts of trouble over the years.” he finally grumbled out,

“Well, good thing we’re so cute.” Dean said, fluttering his eyelashes with a snort. Cas scowled. 

March 13th, 1963

“Are you certain we have enough money for this?” Cas asked quietly,

“We’re only here for the night, Sam brings us home tomorrow, we have $2.21 left, this is the 60’s, we can splurge.” Dean said

“Splurge, right.” Cas grumbled, “I don’t see how going to a strip club is splurging, isn’t joy required for things to be considered ‘splurging’.”

“Pf, no joy in a strip club, come on Cas that’s not…” he paused, catching the look on Castiel’s face, “what?”

“Nothing, Dean.”

“No tell me.”

No response.

“Cas.” he paused, “Cas are you -” he didn’t say it, he didn’t have to say it,

“I am an interdimensional wavelength of light, it is impossible for me to have a sexuality.” Cas said quietly

“Right, but in this body, you’re presenting male.”

“I suppose.”

“And in this male form you like?” Dean prodded, Cas sighed,

“Males.” he said, a broken look burying his features as he walked out the door of their hotel room,

“Castiel where the hell are you going?” Dean called out,

“Out.” he called back, never bothering to look back. Cas found his way down the street, he could be back in time to leave tomorrow and after that he could disappear never to be seen again. Ditch Jimmy, head back to heaven, become a pencil pusher or alternatively if his powers didn’t come back, just go native, join the military or go to college - he wasn’t sure, but anything beat the validation of the whole ‘Dean’s gay angel’ jokes. Sure. Validating the bullshit would be a relief, but inevitably losing Dean wouldn’t be. Cas sighed, walking to the end of the road and taking a sharp left, he didn’t see Dean chasing after him so at least he would get some peace. Relative peace, at least. 

Castiel found himself wandering the streets, up and down, watching the humans as they lived their haphazard lives, an adjunct defect plaguing the world, and yet the planetary cancer cells were made up of such beauty. Cas rubbed at his face, great. Just great.

By the time evening fell Castiel was lost - not hopelessly so, he had some sort of idea where he probably was - but street after street time spent carelessly wandering had been a good way to run through the swath of negative emotions burdening him. He had found a side road that seemed relatively empty, he could see the stars in the sky, hear the rustling of the wind as it caressed the world while passing through, he laid down amongst the trash bins on the cobbled ground, it seemed like a nice enough place for an ex-angel to rest. He closed his eyes, a particularly strong gust of wind wafting through his clothing sending a shiver up his spine. A loud crashing noise signaled a local raccoon had perhaps found dinner or a comfortable place to sleep. Normally something such as this would’ve piqued his interest and yet his mind was elsewhere. Somewhere green; the color of fresh summer apples and a well manicured lawn. 

Dreams of long men with bow legs kissed with freckles filled Castiel’s mind through the night as he found himself ill warmed between two bulging black trash bags. He could feel the edge of an aluminum can stabbing into his side but didn’t really want to move either. He curled tighter into himself as a shudder ran through his body in spite of the relatively warm spring temperatures. He swayed in and out of consciousness in such a manner through the night, waking to find the solace of the stars, sleeping to find the solace of Dean’s eyes. 

April 17th, 2018

“You have everything you need babe?” Samantha asked with a smile, looking at Aaron, who had a suitcase packed and the trunk of his car open,

“Yeah, should be everything.” he said with a smile, “I love you Sam” he said, giving her a quick kiss,

“Love you too,” she said with a smile, “Call me when you get there, and I’ll see you in a few days okay?”

“No problem.” he said with a smile, Sam was pretending not to notice from inside the Impala where he waited for Aaron to follow him. They had a ways to go. The case had taken two full days, tomorrow he was supposed to bring Dean back and he wouldn’t even be home. The guilt he was wracked with was immense, but if he could get Gabriel online when they got home well, then that would be a start. Sam started up the Impala as Aaron got into his Corolla, a nod between the two and Sam was off. The bunker didn’t exactly have an address you could put into google maps, so the two began their trek home to Lawrence, with Aaron following as Sam drove along. 

March 14th, 1963

Angry beeping noises filled Cas’ ears, his eyes opened - the bright blue irises squinting desperately as sunshine poured down on him. His left hand rose to shade his face to see two garbage men, one on a payphone turned to the opposite side of the alley, the other looking at Castiel,

“Ey Mo’ ain’t a cadaver this time.” the one who was staring at Castiel called out, the other turned around to look. The second man apologized to the person on the other end of the phone before hanging up. 

“Hey you, get outta here, scram.” he said, mimicking a sweeping motion with his hands. “You hear me?”  
“Yeah, you hear Mo? Leave. Comprende?” he called out,

“Stupid Mexicans.” he scoffed, “Tu quieras leave-o ese.”

“Comprende?”

“I speak English you dimwits.” Castiel grumbled, pulling a banana peel off of his shirt sleeve and flicking it to the ground, 

“Get out the way ya bum.” the first grumbled, Mo nodded in assent. Cas’ brow furrowed, a piercing glare sent towards the two men - if you could call them that.

“Boo fuckin’ hoo ya pansy, shoo.” they called out, Cas grumbled, flipping them off as he walked off. 

***

It took him half the day, but he did manage to find his way back to the hotel, some ill advised birds gave him some bad tips, and honestly they were probably just fucking with him who was he kidding creatures loved fucking with humans, stupid, worthless, gay, humans. He sighed to himself as he walked into the lobby, the receptionist piqued a brow as Cas walked in but ultimately said nothing. He then made his way to their shared room. 

“Dude, you reek.” Dean said, not looking up,

“I slept in a trash heap.”

“I slept in a trash heap.” Dean mocked, “I go outta my damn way to give you the bed, and you prefer what now? Oh, right, right, a trash heap.”

“Dean I-”

“Oh no, I’m not finished. You left on the one day I really need you here. Come on man, I don’t care, I could’ve taken you to a gay bar back when I told you I was gonna get you laid, actually I would’ve sent Sammy,” Dean smirked, “I think he might have a thing for your brother. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is Team Free Will, 2.0, together and back in action, but we can’t have that if you get stuck in nineteen sixty fucking three.”

“I’m sorry Dean.”

“Damn right you’re sorry. Get in the shower, you reek.”

“Thank you.” Cas said sheepishly, getting into the shower.

“Hurry up, checkout is at one.”

***

“Thank you for your stay with us.” the receptionist smiled, “we hope you come again.” she said, the smile plastered to her face more ingenuine than the Joker’s.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks,” Dean said with a wink, “come on Cas.” he said, grabbing Castiel by the waist and pulling him along.

“Dean. What are you doing?” Cas asked quietly, the confusion imminent,

“Giving her a show.” He said, turning back and winking,

“A show of what exactly.”

“What she already thinks she knows Cas.” He said, a hint of sorrow filling his tone. Cas frowned, 

“She thinks we’re?”

“Yup.”  
“I see.” Cas said, pulling away from Dean, “who doesn’t” he grumbled to himself, too quietly for Dean to catch. 

“Now we just gotta wait for Sammy, should be any time now.” Dean said, 

“Did he tell you when?”

“Just that it’s today.” Dean said, “we got a few more dollars, want to get lunch?” 

“Is $2.21 enough for that?” Cas asked, counting the change in Dean’s hand,

“It’s the 60s, we can get a couple dinners for this.” He said with a wolfish half smile, “besides, we have to end out vacation right don’t we?”  
“Vacation?”  
“I mean sure it was a case, and we failed miserably, but it’s still a vacation.” Dean shrugged, “it’s like going to Dodge and not visiting the Cowboy museums.” he scoffed, as if this was the clearest thing to anyone with eyes and not something that would only be understood after prolonged time with the eldest Winchester. 

“Okay Dean.” Cas said quietly, “let’s go get dinner.” Dean grinned, 

“Maybe Sammy’ll pull us out in the middle of it all, freak some customers, skip the tab.” He laughed, Castiel just rolled his eyes.

***

“So, Cas,” Dean started in the middle of a bite of a greasy cheeseburger, “now that I know your dirty little secret-” Castiel flinched “you, Ishim?” Cas sighed, 

“What about Ishim.”

“Were you-?”  
“Dean, you think I’m” he paused, sinking down close to the table and whispered “gay” he paused, looking around to make sure none of the homophobes that littered the 1960s had heard him, “Based on my vessel, right?” Cas asked, Dean paused and then nodded, “I wasn’t in a male vessel back then.” Dean’s brows piqued,

“That’s not a no Cas.”

“No. It’s not.” he said, looking away. “Look can we stop talking about this now?” Cas asked quietly, “there’s something uncomfortable in knowing we’re in the 1960s and I’m both gay and …fragile.” He grumbled, getting quieter for the duration of the sentence. 

“Yeah, sure.” Dean said, taking a sip of the beer he had ordered. “But, why Ishim.” he pressed,

“DEAN.” 

“Fine, fine sorry.” Dean said, pausing, “you know this doesn’t change anything?”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Cas said under his breath,

“What?”

“Nothing.”  
“No, tell me.” Dean said, brow furrowing,

“I’m okay, thanks.” Cas said, standoffishness coming from the frustrated angel. Dean rolled his eyes, 

“Everything going okay over here boys?”

“Lovely.” Cas said, “can we get the bill please.” he asked, never moving his eyes from glaring at Dean,

“Sure thing sugar.”

“Thank you.”

***

“This is so strange.” Dean said quietly, looking at the clock tower in the middle of the park he and Cas had been strolling, it was five minutes from midnight and here they remained in March of 1963.

“Something must’ve gone wrong.” Cas said softly, looking to Dean,

“But WHAT?! Sammy doesn’t fail.” Dean said, a worry crossing his features.

“Then perhaps Gabriel?”

“Gabriel? What about him?”

“Well, if he was the plan to get us back, maybe Sam didn’t get him up and running?”

“God damnit Ketch. He probably wanted to stay here and that’s what fucked the spell!” Dean yelled, swinging at a park bench, the cool metal making contact with his hand caused stinging pain to fly through his nerve endings. He kicked the bench next, the dull metallic clanging noise the only sound in the night save the wind. “Now fucking what.”

“We wait.”

“We just wait?”

“Dean, angels weren’t on Earth in the 1960s - we would’ve never allowed hippie culture to thrive in the first place - it’s far too lackadaisical.”

“Beam us up soon, Sammy.” Dean said, staring at the sky glinting with stars. 

***

“So, now what?” Cas asked quietly as they sat on the park bench leaning against one another in a failing attempt to try to get some semblance of rest.

“I dunno Cas.” Dean said quietly, Dean could feel the back of Cas’ head move in a nodding motion, “Our IDs and things were taken by the postal bitch, we have two outfits a piece, we look like we’re barely eighteen, we have no papers at all, no bunker.”

“We have each other.”

“A high school dropout and a gay angel stuck in nineteen sixty fucking three.”

“Well, and Ketch.”

“Fuck Ketch.”

“He’s not my type.”

“What, no I didn’t mean…”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Dean paused, “you have a type?”  
“Goodnight Dean.”

“Right. Whatever. Night Cas.” Dean responded as the two fell asleep, pressed up against one another in a park bench in the middle of nowhere Georgia.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

April 18th, 2018

“Gabriel,” Sam called out, entering the bunker, “you here?!” he called out, no one answered, he looked at Aaron and shrugged, “he’s probably here somewhere, all the cars were in the garage.” he mused,

“Yeah, about that, dude, you gotta hook me up with one of those.”

“Hah, fix my angel and deal.”  
“Oh, so he’s your angel now?”  
“Shut up.”  
“Oh, I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Didn’t.” He said, feigning innocence. 

“Right, okay.” he said, weaving his way around the lower level of the bunker before 

heading up to Gabriel’s room. He knocked twice to no response before opening the door, 

“Holy crap.” Aaron said quietly when he saw Gabe, 

“The hell happened to you?!” Sam said, looking at the man in front of him. 

“Yeah, I don’t know much about angel health, but that’s not it.” Aaron said, looking over at him. Gabriel was asleep on the bed, his skin almost translucent with dark purple bags beneath his eyes, his skin had a slightly green tint to it beneath the sheen of sweat. Shuddering in his sleep but above all the blankets Sam walked up to him, gently shaking him to try to wake him.

“Gabe, Gabe, wake up, come on.” Sam said quietly, shaking Gabriel gently his eyes slowly began to open, bloodshot they stared at Sam for a couple seconds before turning into a wince and a strangled noise of pain before the angel grasped at his head. Aaron walked up to Gabe beside Sam, gently dropping the back of his hand to the angel’s forehead,

“Yeah that’s a fever, was he like this when you left?”  
“What, no?! He was fine when I left!?” Sam said, “well, traumatized sure, but, not this?”

“Well clearly something went wrong.”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t human before, maybe newly human angels are more susceptible to shit? I know Castiel sounded awful for a while when his grace was low.” Sam mused,

“I don’t know dude but where do you keep your ibuprofen?”

“Bathroom cabinet.” Sam said quietly, “the hell happened to you now?” he mumbled, concerned for the angel, but even more concerned at the prospect of bringing Dean home today, which now seemed very unlikely. 

“Okay, we need him to take these to get that down.” Aaron said, holding out the bottle. “After that we can try to figure out what’s causing” he paused, “this mess.” he said motioning to Gabe. Gabriel glared at him, not saying much but quickly swallowing the pills handed to him.

“Swallowing I can do regardless of state.” he grumbled. Sam buried his face in his hands, shaking his head, Aaron just looked amused. 

“Hm, congrats man.” Adam said, patting Sam’s back, Sam shrunk further. This was not happening. 

“Okay, we’re gonna let you rest while that kicks in, in an hour I’ll come get you.” Aaron said, Gabriel nodded, “Cool, Sam, come on, let’s go try to figure out how else we can get your brother back.” he said, Sam just nodded,

“Thanks.”

“No problem man. Just get me a date with your brother and we’re even.”

“Hah. I’m gonna tell Sam you said that.”

“She’d think it’s hot, she’s down for a thruple.” he said with a smirk and a little eyebrow

waggle. Sam just laughed,

“Whatever, to the lore.” 

***

“I don’t see anything.” Aaron said, slamming another dusty volume shut. Sam sighed, 

nodding,

“I think we need him back online to get Dean back.” he said quietly, “if time travel were

easy more people would’ve done it by now.”

“I’ll go check on Gabriel, you keep looking.” Aaron said, Sam nodded, putting his nose back into Enochian Sigils, Rituals, and More!, a dreary read of essentially useless information. Sam had been paging through it for the better part of an hour, he scratched at his chest mindlessly as he flicked to the next page with his free hand. 

“Well, fever is down. He’s asleep though.” Aaron said, “I can look him over when he wakes up.”

“Great. Maybe it’s just something stupid and simple we’re missing.” Sam said idly, knowing that wasn’t likely the case.

“Archangels don’t just get tanked, Sam.” Aaron said quietly,

“I know.” he responded somberly, “come on, let’s get back into this.”

***

“Well.” Aaron said, pulling a latex glove off of his hand, “aside from being a sick basket case he’s perfectly healthy as far as I can tell.”

“You’re kidding me.” Sam said, frustration coating his tone, Aaron shook his head, lips pursed. 

“He has a relatively clean bill of health dude.”

“Then what are we missing if it’s not supernatural and it’s not human?”

“I don’t know.” he said quietly, “it’s like he’s fine, but something is stopping him from being fine.” Aaron mused, Sam scratched at his chest again,

“Dude do you need looked at you’ve been scratching at that all day?”

“What? No it’s just the dry weather. I just need moisturizer.” Sam grumbled, smoothing his shirt. 

“I don’t know. Could be anything.” Aaron reiterated, “we can hit the lore again?”  
“We’re going to have to.” Sam said quietly - the clock read 8:15 PM - “Dean’s not coming home tonight…” he said quietly, “so the sooner the better.”

“On it.” Aaron said with a cheesy grin. 

March 15th, 1963

Sunshine directly overhead - Friday March 15th - day one of ?. The weather was muggy with bright sunshine overhead, eyes draped in bags and dry mouths graced Dean and Castiel’s young looks. 

“Okay Cas.” Dean said quietly upon waking up, “ready to commit some petty theft and robbery?” He asked quietly, a small smirk on his lips, 

“Were we not doing that already?” He asked, “what with the cross?” Dean snorted,

“That wasn’t petty theft.” he said, “no, come on, we need to hit the park - we have some identities to steal.” 

April 23rd, 2018

For half a week Sam and Aaron read through books and lore, Gabriel improved physically but mentally remained unwell, and of course, still powered down. 

“DUDE. I am TELLING YOU to INVEST in LOTION.” Aaron said, rubbing at his temples,

“Oh my God.” Sam said quietly, “I, I have it.”

“Eczema? Yeah. You probably do.” he grumbled,

“What, no, not that. The problem. I think I have the problem.”

“Do you see me scratching relentlessly at my chest?” Aaron asked

“What? No! Forget my skin.” Sam said, a frustrated glare taking over his features, “you know how demons don’t find me?” he asked, Aaron shook his head, “Castiel carved sigils into my ribs.” he said, pointing out the approximate location,

“Oh my god.” Aaron said, eyes wide. 

“How do we check?!”

“Bone carvings would show up in a standard X-Ray.” Aaron said, the excitement ramping between the two. “So we just need to find an X-Ray technician.” 

“We can do that, but we need someone in the business, if he lights up with sigils the medical dicks will start asking questions - no offense.”

“None taken we are medical dicks.” Aaron responded with a laugh, “I actually might know a guy. Let me make a couple calls - I’ll be back in an hour I think with an X-Ray tech.” Aaron said with a smile, Sam laughed,

“Sounds good.”

“BUY LOTION WHILE I’M GONE.” Aaron shouted, Sam laughed again, walking out of the library, time to check on Gabe again. 

***

Sam knocked on the door twice before entering, he found Gabriel in the corner gazing off into space. Sam cleared his throat to try to gain Gabe’s attention, Gabriel didn’t move his gaze, Sam made the noise again, louder this time, Gabe still sat unwavering.

“Gabe?” Sam asked quietly, leaning over,

“Yes?” He asked staunchly, refusing to look from the spot his gaze was affixed on,

“What are you doing?”  
“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Uh, losing it.” Sam said with a nervous laugh,

“Oh, right, of course, losing it - no.” Gabriel mocked, returning to silence,

“Uh?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”  
“Meditating.”

“Meditating?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t take me as the meditating type.” Sam countered,

“And what is the meditating type, Samuel.”

“Not you.”

“Oh not me, huh.”

“No, not you.”

“Well fuck off.”

“Okay sheesh I’m leaving.” Sam said, rolling his eyes he exited the room. Dick. At least he was starting to come back around. Sam wandered back downstairs, finding his way to a cold beer in the fridge - it was Dean’s, not that he’d miss it - taking a quick sip off the top he set it down on a coaster, thinking of the countless times he’d found Jack in this very room snacking on something he wasn’t meant to be. Losing mom, that was one thing, but losing a son? It left him in this fog that all he could do was work through. He sat at the table, reminiscing of Jack, of Dean, of their family and their messed up hunter life - their forced together puzzle hunter family - when Aaron returned.

“Okay Sam.” Aaron said with a smile, “I have someone.” He said, holding out a small business card folded in half, Sam took it, opening the page up,

“Radiologic Technologist Karen Noice” Sam read aloud, tapping the phone number beneath, “Okay, so we need to set up a time with her.” Sam said,

“Already done.” Aaron said with satisfaction, a look of impress on his pointed features, 

“When are we going?”

“Nine pm, Saturday.”

“Two more days?”

“Then we can get this thing wrapped up.” Aaron said, “Saturday at nine is when the x ray lab is closed for deep cleaning, she’s sneaking us in.”

“Okay, alright, Saturday at nine.” Sam confirmed.

April 24th, 2018

When Saturday rolled around Sam was bouncing with nervous energy for the duration of the day, he cleaned the major group spaces of the bunker, being careful not to disrupt Dean’s things. Aaron spent his day studying medical sigil lore, the going was slow and his attention span was short. When 8:30 rolled around, the group piled into the Impala and hit the road. Sam in the driver’s seat, Aaron the passenger and Gabe sprawled across the back. Today seemed to be one of his bad days, he was withdrawn, quiet, and unsociable for the duration of the day. Sam missed his quippy sarcasm, it reminded him just a bit of Dean’s. 

When the group arrived at Mercy General they clambered out of the Impala and Aaron was in full medical dress, scrubs and lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in hand he began speed walking, his posture suggesting power, 

“Excuse me coming through!” he called out, weaving his way through the crowd with Sam and Gabe in tow. When the group arrived at the X Ray lab Aaron knocked three times in an uneven cadence, he heard the door unlock and then open. 

“Aaron, come on in.” the woman said with a smile, she was young, with fiery red curls tied back into a tight ponytail,

“Karen, Sam, Sam, Karen.” He said, introducing the two,

“And this must be our patient?” she said looking at Sam,

“Uh, no.” he said, with a short coughy laugh, “that would be him.” he said, pointing to Gabriel who was barely inside the now closed door. 

“And what’s your name?” She asked, no response came,

“He’s uh, having a bad day.” Sam said sheepishly, “his name is Gabriel.” he said helpfully, “he’s the one you’re x-raying.”

“Perfect.” She said, “okay Gabriel come on over.” she said, walking over to him and gently pulling his arm. The X Ray had both begun and ended quickly, the three men waited in a nervous buzz while Karen when to go pull the results. The look on Karen’s face as she walked back into the room said everything, lips pursed and brow furrowed as she stared down at the photos in front of her.

“Come, sit.” she said, motioning to a couple waiting chairs in the room. Sam and Aaron sat in them, Gabe took the floor, she sat in the chair across from the two. “So I have a couple sheets here, because I needed to get a full picture and a close up picture so you can legitimately understand the situation we’re looking at.” She said, looking gravely between the two men in the chairs, who nodded silently. “So” she said slowly, “here is the full torso imaging.” she said, holding out the picture, 

“What am I looking at.” Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion,

“Those” she said slowly, pointing to tiny pock marks in the bone, Sam nodded furiously, “that’s where picture two comes in.” she said, pulling out the second diagnostic X ray “are sigils.” she said quietly, zoomed in to one single rib you could make out spider sized sigils of varying types meant to bind angels, degrace angels, 

“Holy crap.” Sam rasped,

“Those,” she continued, “are all, over, his, body” she said, placing down different

diagnostic sheets with each pause in cadence. Sure enough his entire body was covered in the tiny pock marks, every potential millimeter of bone decorated in enochian.

“Shit.” Aaron whispered, “Thank you, Karen, we appreciate your help with this.”

“Right, yes, thank you.” Sam stammered out over the roaring pain growing in his chest. The trio walked out of the building, pages gifted from Karen hidden away in an unmarked folder on Aaron’s clipboard.

“So what now.” Sam said, buckling his seatbelt in the Impala. 

“This is bad.” Aaron said quietly, “I’d rather talk to you about this back at the bunker.”

“Sure.” Sam said quietly. The quiet hum of tires on pavement and the scratchy tin of Dean’s cassette tapes the only sounds for the remainder of the ride. 

***

“Okay.” Sam said quietly, “we’re alone.” he motioned around the empty library, Gabriel had gone off to do something. “What do we do.”

“Okay so here’s the thing.” Aaron said sitting down, “we could go at this in one fell swoop, open his body, sand his bones, and hope the vessel survives long enough to break the angel out.” he said, eyes staring directly into Sam’s, “but the speed required before he bleeds out even with a decent medical set up is an enormous gamble. You’re talking about the second coming of Jesus odds. To my knowledge - Gabriel is our only plan to get your brother back” he said, Sam nodded, “right, so if we fail, and the odds would be on failure, the archangel Gabriel dies, and we lose our only access to 1963.”

“So that’s out, what do you propose we do.”

“What we would do if he were any human with weird life altering bone carvings.

We do small, manageable surgeries, we sand down the bone to remove the blemishes, we reinforce the now brittle bone with metal plating as needed, and we move onto the next section once the first has healed enough.” 

“That sounds…”

“Time consuming, I know, but it’s your strongest guarantee at Dean coming home.”

“Okay, when do we start.”

“Do you have a surgical theatre in here?”

“Well, no. We have a sick bay?”

“The Men of Letters were dicks weren’t they? What’s even in there band aids and Tylenol?” Aaron asked with a snarky flare, Sam laughed, the comment was oddly reminiscent of Dean. 

“It’s actually pretty well equipped sense they were never hurt. Aside from that some of the outdated things in there Dean and I replaced. Oh and Tylenol wasn’t branded until after the Men of Letters unintentionally disbanded.” he retorted with a small grin. 

“In the meantime, of course, you could always be looking for a spell to do this. But if I’m doing this here I’m going to need your help in the operating room. Normally there’s a team doing the work. Oh and I need a bone laser.”

“A what?”

“A bone laser. Used in plastic surgery to shave down bone, usually cosmetic, much easier than any physical shaving would be.”

“Right…”

“It’s necessary. There’s a safety factor involved.”

“Sure, right, okay.” Sam said nodding, “I’ll get one. Should be easy enough to find, medical black market.”

“Oh no, this needs to go through wholesome means, I’m not risking janky equipment for surgery. It’s against my oath.”

“Right…” Sam trailed off, “I’ll get one, safe means, and I’ll call you when I do.”

“Great, I’ll head home in a couple hours, I’ll let him know what’s going on before I go.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem man.”

***

Aaron went home and Sam was a mess. Knocking on Gabe’s door to silence or distant staring wasn’t comforting. A plan in place but literal years of Dean in the 1960s was the price tag. He hated all of it, he hated that he sent him to begin with, he hated that they hadn’t confirmed that the spell was one way only, he hated that Dean was gone and he was failing to hold down the fort. He couldn’t take on new cases, he couldn’t focus on helping the world, he was stuck in an endless loop of problems and nowhere near surfacing. 

Sam grumbled, he’d been searching for the right laser with the right seller but nothing had come to surface. He was in the kitchen doing more research on his laptop when Gabriel padded in, silently pulling something from the fridge and beginning to nibble on it. He didn’t speak, but he did sit in the chair across from Sam quietly as he took small bites of the pickle he had pulled out. Sam laughed darkly, melancholy coated his throat,

“Your nephew takes after you.” he said quietly, “Jack used to come eat those all the time.” he said with a small smile, 

“Jack.” Gabriel whispered,

“Yeah, Jack.” Sam said fondly, his heart in a mix of emotions - thankful to be discussing his son, heartbroken that his son wasn’t with them any longer - hopeful to bring him home one day, after all Dean should have the cross even if they couldn’t bring him home. Dean wasn’t the failing type, not like Sam was. Sam dropped his chin into his palm, finding himself spiraling. As if somehow his angel powers were still online, Grabriel reached out and grabbed Sam’s forearm. Sam could feel his fingertips gently moving back and forth across his skin. He smiled, a tiny smile, Gabe smiled a half smile back.

“Thanks.” He croaked, his throat going dry with emotion,

“You are a good dad. You’ll get him back.” Gabe said quietly, 

“How would you even know that.” Sam laughed, brushing him off, “you’ve never even met Jack.”

“I could sense him before. I could sense his happiness. It helped me keep going.” Gabe said, looking directly at Sam, whose eyes were now watering badly. Gabe looked away as tears began to fall onto Sam’s cheeks. Sam wiped them away quickly and fluffed his hair, cleared his throat and went back to his search for the A254 Micro Bone Laser with Dual Attachment System - a requirement from Aaron to do the work - as Gabriel sat, and ate his pickle, and absentmindedly stroked Sam’s arm.

May 3rd, 2018

“Okay Aaron, it’s shipping tomorrow.” Sam said happily, the order placed and the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear,

“That’s great Sam!” he could hear Sam chime in from the background. 

“Yeah that’s awesome, when’s it supposed to arrive?”

“The 18th of May.” Sam said, frustration in his voice,

“Yeah sounds about right - medical equipment is usually on back order.” Aaron said, “it’s okay, we’ll plan to get started the 19th then.”

“Okay, you can bring Sam if she wants.” Sam mentioned,

“Oh that’s okay, she has an Ultra Recyclo Vegetarian restaurant to run.” he said with a chuckle, “that’s her baby, she definitely loves it more than me.”

“I DO NOT!” Sam heard from the background, he laughed. 

“Tell her I say hi.”

“Sam says’ hi Sam!” Aaron called out, 

“Hey!” he heard faintly over the speaker, 

“Okay, I’ll be there the 19th, we’ll start that morning - if things change call me okay?”

“Yeah okay, will do. Thank you again Aaron.”

“Sure thing.” he said, hanging up the phone. 

May 19th, 2018

“Okay Sam, scrub down.” Aaron said, Sam nodded, heading to the sink to wash up, “we need to put Gabriel under, you have supplies to do so, right?” he asked, Sam nodded, 

“They were decked out, for no good reason since they never did more than study, but it’s been a helpful addition now that hunters live here.”

“Perfect, okay.” Aaron said, grabbing his surgical kit and placing it next to the bed. “Go get Gabriel, we’ll get started shortly.” Sam nodded, he walked into the other room, Grabbing Gabriel who silently walked to their makeshift operating theatre. 

“Gabriel, if you could lay down on the table please.” Aaron said, Gabriel complied. Aaron started pulling on gloves, “so here is what is going to happen, your bones are covered, every square inch, so were going to work in quadrants with each one until we can clear every section. We’re going to start today with the tibias - front quadrant of each - legs will be brutal, which is why we’re getting them over with first. We’ll work our way down from there until your legs and feet have been completed. From there we’re going to hit the torso which will be the second hardest, the spine, the rib cage, the ilium, working our way up until your body has been cleared. This isn’t all happening today. The two tibias are today, are we clear?” Aaron asked, Gabriel nodded, “perfect, okay, then Sam and I are going to put you under,” he said, “if you could count backwards from 100 while I put this mask on.” he said, adhering the anesthesia.

“Okay Sam, let’s get to work.” Aaron said quietly once Gabriel was gone.

***

“Sam.” Aaron said quietly, “we almost lost him back there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I nicked the femoral artery. That’s the definition of my fault.”

“It isn’t your fault, I bumped you.”

“It is my fault, as the surgeon I take primary responsibility.”

“Well we stabilized him, didn’t we.” Sam said hopefully, 

“Barely.”

“We did. And he’s going to recover. And we got one tibia done.”

“Yes but-”

“We have to keep going. We can’t quit.”

“If I kill him-”  
“You won’t.”

“I’m not seasoned here dude, I’m doing my best but my best might not be good enough.” 

Aaron said, throwing off his gloves with a soft clap. 

“You aren’t seasoned.” Sam agreed, “But you’re all I have right now. And I need you, Dean, needs you to keep going.” Sam said, clapping his hand on Aaron’s back. Motivational speaker Sam Winchester strikes again.

“He’ll wake soon.” Aaron said quietly, 

“Let’s get some cleanup done then - the amount of blood in that theatre right now might be too much for him, he’s still not all there.” Sam said quietly, Aaron nodded. 

“Who would be? He was tortured for years. The fact that we have him at all is pure miracle.”

“Yeah,” Sam scoffed, “yeah it is.”

July 16th, 2018

“Okay Sam, scalpel.” Aaron said quietly, eight weeks of healing to ensure the vain had repaired, and another one to redraw up the surgical plan and the boys were ready to go. Sam handed Aaron the scalpel, watching as Aaron delicately sliced through the thigh tissue. Cutting down to the bone took time and precision, Sam would periodically mop up blood escaping the cuts in his leg. They quickly worked, getting down to the bone and using the laser to remove all of the marks that almost looked like pock marks in the skin of an addict drilled into the bone. Using magnifying glasses Aaron viewed and reviewed the bone, ensuring that every mark was removed before reinforcing the bone and working to patch Gabriel back together. Simple in description - gruesome in practice. Seven hours after the start the procedure was completed. When they finished up, coated in a layer of slick blood and tissue they stripped their scrubs, leaving the now healing Gabriel in the sick bay. Sam went to shower while Gabriel finished up his procedural notes for their next operation.

***

“How you feeling Gabriel?” Aaron asked,

“Been better doc.” he grumbled, looking down at his legs that were still held together by dark, bruise mottled stitching. 

“Haven’t we all.” he said with a laugh, “okay, well looks like we need to bandage those, I’ll get Sam on it.” Aaron said with a small smile, looking at the seeping stitches. He walked off and a few minutes later in came Sam with a roll of cloth bandage and antiseptic,

“Hey Gabriel.” he said quietly, Gabe nodded, “let’s get this sorted.” he said with a small half smile that Gabriel returned,

“Thanks.” he said quietly, 

“Sure.” he laughed, Sam quickly wrapped up the legs, tying them off firmly at the tops of his thighs. “There you go.” he said, standing,

“Wait” Gabe called as Sam went to leave the room, “stay?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ll stay.” he said, a slight fluster coming over his features. He walked back to the couch Gabriel had been sitting on and sat beside him. They weren’t saying anything, they didn’t have to. 

April 25th, 2019

“Gabe, come on, we need to get these done on schedule.” Sam said, frustration taking over his voice, “Dean has been stuck in 1963 for a whole year now.” he said quietly, Gabriel sighed, getting up onto his feet, still not talking, today had been a bad day. 

“Sam did you get him yet?” Aaron called from the sick bay,

“Working on it!” he yelled back, “Gabe, please, for me?” he said quietly, Gabe grumbled, motioning to follow Sam.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

November 12th, 1965, Day 981.

“Cas” Dean called out from their living room, “don’t you have class this morning?” He yelled as he washed the last dish, setting it gingerly on the dish mat.

“No that’s Tuesdays.” Cas called out from the desk where he was quietly reading,

“Got it. I have to be into the shop in an hour.” 

“Yeah?” Cas asked, looking up at Dean and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, 

“Yeah,” Dean said with a grin, walking over to the desk,

“Dean I’m studying.” Cas grumbled,

“Studying? Studying what? This book?” He asked, picking it up and setting it aside gingerly so as not to lose the page,

“Dean.” Cas grumbled

“Cas.” Dean taunted with a smile, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on Cas’ lips. Cas sighed, dating the page 11/12/1965. Dean’s brow furrowed, “Is it really the 12th?” Dean asked, Cas nodded, “dude, it’s a Tuesday.”

“Shit.”

“Get your tardy ass to class.” he said with a laugh, 

“Who died and made you boss.” Cas grumbled,

“I believe that would be JFK.” he chuckled,

“Hah. Hilarious.”

“Go. You’re gonna be late.”

“Whatever.” Cas grumbled, grabbing his school bag. 

“I’ll see ya after work.” Dean said, kissing Cas’ cheek.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean laughed as he started to put the dishes away. The clock on the wall read 9:03, he had fifteen minutes before he needed to leave for work down at the garage, and then a double shift at the diner after that, but someone had to keep the bills under control and even with grant money tuition wasn’t cheap. Dean sighed, finishing up and heading down the stairs of their third level apartment, grabbing his lunch Cas had made on the way out the door. 

***

“Heya Steve” Dean called out,

“Tom, there’s a car out back waiting for ya, needs the o’l magic touch.” 

“Yes sir.” Dean called back, miming a salute. Dean walked to his station and got to work, on a diagnosis when he saw the owner pacing out front, he gave a quick smile and wave. The owner nodded, walking over to Dean brusquely, 

“Sir, do you perchance have a phone I could use?” He asked, nervousness pinching his voice,

“Sure, right around the corner.” Dean pointed to where their office phone was, he’d spent many days on the phone with Cas during his breaks,

“Thank you.” he said, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing the sweat from his forehead. Dean went back to work, quickly popping open the hood of the car.

“Hello sir, Agent Reinhart here.” the man said, a pause, “yes I was just calling about the exhibit at the Smithsonian.” Dean reached for a wrench, noting some areas that needed tightening, “yes the cross exhibit, that’s the one sir.” Dean wiped some grease off of the tool, quickly getting to work, “well yes, but.” diving into a car was the easiest thing to get lost in, sure he could go to school like Cas, be an engineer, do something more, but then how would Cas keep going? “Well, yes but sir, it really needs to come down to be cleaned. The emeralds are beginning to unsettle from their spaces we really need a jeweler to-” Ah Cas, man did he love Castiel. That first year had been hard, coming out, setting up new lives, coming to terms with the fact that Sammy was either gone or couldn’t get to them, there was a lot of pain, a lot of grief, man Cas helped him get through it all, “yes but SIR. The jewels NEED repaired, or we’re going to be down an exhibit. I personally recommend we send them to Atticus Jewels off of 34th as they have an expertise if you’re catching my drift.” he said into the phone, covering the mouthpiece carefully. Dean perked up, finally catching drift of the conversation going on behind him. “Atticus on the thirteenth? I think we can accomplish that. Yes sir. It’ll be there.” Agent Reinhart said, hanging up the phone,

“So, what do you think is wrong with my car?” He asked, turning around the corner, 

“Working on it.” Dean said, almost too shocked to speak. The man frowned, walking off. 

***

“Dean, this is idiotic.” Cas said quietly, not looking up from the book his nose was stuffed into, “even if we got the cross, how do we get home.”  
“It has magical properties right? Maybe we can figure out how to tap into it to get us home?”

“Dean.” Cas said, looking up at him and setting down Fundamentals of Humanitarian Law, “even if we succeed, we have no way to get back, and what happens if we don’t succeed.”

“Cas, you’re a Winchester now, Winchester, not Losechester.” Dean said, Cas sighed,

“Not legally.”

“Give it sixty years.” Dean said with a small half smile, grabbing Cas’ hand, “and we’ll do it right. Even Sammy’ll be there.” 

“Not the point.”

“The point,” Dean said, pausing for effect, “is that Winchesters never say die.”

“Dean that’s the Goonies.”

“Hasn’t been filmed yet. Winchesters, never say die.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah well you’re ridiculous too. We need to go for it.”

“Dean.”

“Sammy would.” Dean said quietly, his tone turning soft and somber,

“Deeaan.” Cas whined, Dean gave Cas a disappointed look, “Fine. We’ll go.” Cas said, slamming his book shut, “but when I end up in jail you better bail me out.” he grumbled. 

“Deal.” Dean said, a look of relief washing over his features. “Thanks man.” He said, pulling Castiel into a deep hug. “I love you Cas.”

“I love you too.” Cas mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

“Okay, so the thirteenth we need to be at Atticus Jewelers on 34th.”

“34th and what Dean.” Cas asked, Dean shrugged, 

“Phone book?” Dean asked, Cas walked over to their kitchen counter and pulled it from the cupboards above, tossing it at Dean who quickly grabbed it.

“Dean, really, we could stay here. We could be happy here.”

“Cas.” Dean said sadly, looking at his friend, “I’m tired of being afraid that someone is going to see us for what we are and that that’s going to be it, that we’ll have to start all over. I live every day petrified because I’m literally powerless to stop this.”

“Time travelers..?”

“Queers.” Dean said apologetically, Cas just glared back at him storming off. “Caaaaas.” Dean called back. He sighed, “Fine. I’ll do it myself. Don’t say you weren’t invited.” He called out, rubbing his face roughly with his hands, finding a tiny bit of stubble covering his cheeks - an improvement from the baby face he’d been living with that’s for sure. 

November 13th, 1965

Stubbornness a primary Winchester trait, neither Dean nor Cas budged their position, and so the next morning Dean faked a bad cold and called in from work, and Castiel went to class just the same as usual. Dean had tracked down the shop - it was harder than he had remembered - it was in Bellville, a fifteen minute drive from Collins, Ga where he and Cas had found their home away from home. He had managed to find his local bus route and pop onto the 105 just in time, he missed baby that much was certain. Suited up with his original thrift threads and a makeshift badge Dean was ready to go, or as ready as a rusty hunter stuck reliving the past could ever be. They should’ve prepared, taken on the full Biff method, but unfortunately they had never planned on staying - hindsight is 20/20 after all.

Dean got off the bus at the stop on 28th, quickly speed walking his way down Aurora until he reached 34th. His brisk walk working up a slight sweat along the single crease in his forehead - ah to be young - he passed a restaurant, a library, a small laundromat a burger joint he made a mental note of on his way down the road before coming to Atticus Jewelers, with a familiar emblem drawn on the glass door. Dean smirked, of course this had to do with the dicks of letters. He walked in, running his finger beneath his lower lip.

“Hi there, Tom Brady, FBI.” Dean said, walking on the shop owner, “I am here to inspect the cross.” he said smoothly, looking at the frowning clerk. 

“Oh, are you now. Can I see that badge again?”

“Of course.” Dean said, pulling it out, the Kinkos knockoff wasn’t really what he wanted but hey it was the best he could do in a moment’s notice.

“Ah, of course sir. I’ll just need you to fill out some paperwork for me, basically ensuring you are accepting all rights and responsibilities to any damages, liabilities, or other issues therein pertaining to or in relation with the cross as Smithsonian museum legal property and proprietary ownership.” the man rambled, shuffling some paperwork on his desk apparently looking for a specific page for completion.

“Right, right, terms and conditions, sure.” Dean said with a forced smile as he waited for the clerk to finish the paperwork shuffling. As he waited another couple customers entered the room, Dean looked to one and waved a small friendly wave, as he did a third customer entered the room and guns were raised,

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP, YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT, ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A LEGAL COURT OF LAW.” 

“Son of a bitch.”

November 14th, 1965

“You absolute idiot.” Cas said, pacing their apartment, hands clasped over his forearms behind his back, eyes on the floor, “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry Cas.”

“No, I TOLD you this was a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“And you ignored me.”

“I know…”

“And now THIS.”

“I know. I’m s-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Cas growled, Dean sighed, looking down at his hands. “When do you ship out.”

“My parole officer said he’ll be in contact…”  
“Vietnam. Fucking Vietnam.”

“It beats prison.”

“Does it?!”

“I mean. I’m not locked up.”

“Oh, right, because the potential to be shot at is so much better. Not to mention isn’t your father over there? Because that doesn’t have the potential to screw anything up.”

“Cas…”

“No. Dean. You. Screwed. Up.” Cas said angrily, storming off into the other room.

“Hey we only even GOT this deal because friggin Ketch has connections now, I could be rotting in prison!” Dean yelled back, 

“It would be BETTER.”

November 20th, 1965

“It came.” Dean said quietly, the bags under his eyes had grown thick, “Tom Brady, Infantry division, Dang Na.” he rambled off the page before crumpling it. “Who knows, maybe real Tom Brady gets named after me.” Dean chuckled, Cas didn’t respond.

December 1st, 1965

“You know we already said goodbye” Dean said quietly, looking at Cas who wanted nothing more than to grab his ‘husband’, to kiss him goodbye, to make a scene like all the other wives, not that he was a wife. 

“I know.” Cas rasped, pushing his glasses further up on his face, Dean clapped his hand on Cas’ shoulder for old times’ sake,

“Gonna miss you buddy.” he said quietly, Cas sighed, pulling Dean tightly into a hug.

“Friends hug.” he said quietly after he left go, Dean gave Cas a sad smile, and waved at him before turning around. Cas watched as he walked off, sorrow threatening his clavicle trying to escape any way possible. His neck and throat tensed as he turned to head back home, he wouldn’t cry. Not here.

January, 1966

Castiel’s day to day became a monotonous droning existence, waiting for letters, watching for news, living on the edge of his seat as he watched the pile of unopened letters painted red grew with each passing day. Letters came, letters went, bills mostly, college was a tedious drumbeat, a constant cadence and yet it went unnoticed to Castiel’s distant mind.

It started with drinking, James Miller the original owner of his ID turned 21 this year, and so too did Castiel in the eyes of the public. He quickly moved from drinking to drugs. His life became a wild blur of parties and crashes, all the while clinging to each letter home from the war. 

February 17th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

Hey doll face, how’s it hanging? I take it 1966 is treating you just as well as it is treating me. I’m no writer, so I guess these will be the only “love letters” you get, so... don’t complain… Well Cas, Vietnam isn’t the worst this time of year, apparently this is one of the best months to visit. You know how you’d hear talk, how war was nothing like the movies? The people who say that have never been to war. We’re still in Da Nang so I don’t really have an address for you yet but I’ll get one, and you better write. I’m taking time out of my precious day - you better damn well do the same. Well, anyway, I won’t bore you the details of my annoying bunk mate who snores or the gross bug I saw next to my hand yesterday, but I wanted to tell you I love you, and I’ll write soon. P.S. is it weird I feel safer because I know John is here? Is that normal? I mean, he’s not here-here but… Yeah. It’s definitely weird.

Love, Tom Brady

March 18th, 1966

Castiel’s eyes had a permanent set of bags taking residence beneath them, his ability to care dropping lower and lower with each passing day. Crushing his fingers into a fist that he rubbed against his damp forehead. He knew he needed more drugs soon. The weed was one thing, it started slow and built, he was perpetually stoned from basically the day Dean left, but the LSD, heroin - drugs just made things difficult. His vision swam as he attempted to focus on the essay due for Claims Law class but the shaking in his hands was slowly growing like a snake preparing to constrict around a victim. He left the apartment, the low income housing barely kept afloat by what little he could work and the money Dean could send home. He quickly walked to campus, the dorms were usually a good place to go for this. Knocking on one of the doors, Cas bounced as he waited, a gurgling in his stomach calling for a fix.

“Jeremy” Cas said quietly as his friend opened the door,

“What do you want?” Jeremey asked, his facial expression unamused, his mouth in a tight frown, 

“To party.” Cas said sheepishly,

“Right, right, after you didn’t pay for your stuff last time?”

“I’m good for it this time.” Cas said, a slightly pleading tone taking hold in his shaky voice, as he pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. 

“Ah, perfect, this just about covers your last binge.” Jeremy said, taking the wad and slamming the door in Cas’ face, Cas began pounding on the door, slamming his fist against the grainy wood until it and the door were damp with fresh blood,

“God damnit Jeremy LET ME IN.” He yelled, throwing his shoulder weight against the door, the door remained closed. “FINE. SEE IF I CARE.” He yelled, making his way to the next dorm.

March 30th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

It rained a bit today, the weather is starting to turn and I’m unsure when but soon it’s going to be like this all the time. Call up Crowley for me I’ll happily make a sale to stop that from happening. I’m kidding don’t call him, he isn’t good yet. You know what I mean. We’re still stationed out of Dang Na but tomorrow we’re heading to (redacted) for a raid. Me and a couple other of the guys have a bet going as to who cracks first, a couple of ‘em bet on me but hey - we all know I’ve been through hell (hah!). The mailing address for me is written on the back of the page - it sure would be good to hear from ya Cas, I miss you. I miss sitting with you in front of the apartment and watching the cars driving past, I miss your laugh, your smile. A lot of the guys have pictures of their gals in their helmets - for obvious reasons I don’t - but if I could, the spot would be yours. I don’t want to talk about what I see here, what I’m living through. Not really. war is war, but it ain’t pretty. I’m just a grunt, replaceable, so I see everything. I miss tellin’ you I love you, I miss seeing your nose stuffed in books when I came home every day. Not that it matters but I’m comin’ down with somethin’ and I know you’d be yellin’ at me to stay in bed. They just yell at me to follow orders and shoot on sight. As if I didn’t get enough of that growing up. Enough negative shit, we got cold beers and smokes at this club the other night, man I’ve missed beer, what being 19 and all (hah).

Miss you, wish I was there, glad you’re not here.

Eternally yours, Tom Brady

April 1st, 1966

“Buddy, hey buddy.” Carl said, gently shaking Castiel, whose hunched over frame was now drooling on his homework in the middle of the lecture hall, Cas grunted opening his eyes, blinking twice before his disorientation began to face,

“Carl.” He grunted, as Carl offered a hand to help him up,

“Dude are you okay? You’ve been messed up for weeks now.”

“Yeah, m’fine, been sick, just need Spring break.” he said quietly. 

“If you say so man.” Carl said wearily before walking off, leaving Castiel alone in the hall. 

***

April 12th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

I miss you. Things are getting hard here, it rains and it never stops raining, two of my bunkmates have already got killed - one was shot, the other got sick and didn’t make it. It’s not like we were friends...and I guess this means I won the bet but it’s a little hard to collect on them now. Maybe I’ll call up Billie for a little help. Hah. That was a joke you’re supposed to laugh. The morale here - it dwindles by the day. Nobody wants to be here, nobody understands what we’re doing here, and that makes it all the worse. I can feel ‘good little soldier boy’ coming back, dad would be proud I think. Mom would hate it. I miss mom, and you, and Jack, maybe one day I’ll see you all again. Until then, the jungle of the damned will have to do. The men out here pray, they pray for peace, they pray for survival, they pray for their families and their wives, hell some of them even pray for Vietnam, I don’t have the heart to tell ‘em He’s not listening.

Anyways, I’m running out of daylight so I gotta get this sent,Much love, happy belated Easter Angel.

Love, Tom Brady

May 13th, 1966

Cas fell to the tan sidewalk as another strong tremor ran through his body, he quickly vomited into the wet grass beside him. As he sat on all fours above the ground his head spun. He closed his eyes trying to regain control. His glasses had fallen into the pile of vomit beneath him. His hands clammy with sweat he fumbled to pick them up, shaking a clinging chunk of vomit from the scratched frames. His eyes zerod in to his left, a small needle that seemed to have a little bit of heroin left inside was off to his left, he reached for it, examining the point before wiping it on his pants and attempting to find a vein. Excitement danced in his eyes as blood filled the syringe and then was pulled back into the vein, along with the beautiful brown substance. Thank God for the college party scene.

***

May 7th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

This thing on? Just haven’t heard from you… Hope you haven’t forgotten about little ol’ me. It’s been six months... I won’t keep you long... They’re moving us, some new base further into the jungle, we’re packing everything out and hiking in, should be a grand ol’ time. I heard from Ketch, actually. Since he got that fancy defence job with the state and used it to get me over here instead of imprisoned apparently he’s been keeping tabs on me. Awesome right? If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was after your spot. There’s only one you for me though, write soon, you know I will.

Love, Tom Brady

May 19th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

Rations are low, what I’d give for one of Sammy’s salads is downright tragic. Reminds me of times growing up - but you don’t wanna hear about that. A guy almost shot me yesterday, we were in the jungle and this ambush got us. Couple guys didn’t make it, a bullet grazed my thigh, we bandaged it quick - shouldn’t get infected but who knows in this God forsaken jungle.

They still hate us back home? Yeah I’m sure they do. It is the 60s after all. Write me back, Cas. I miss you, I miss our long phone calls and going hunting together. I wish I could be with you, could touch you but… You’re not here. That was then; this is now. Write me back… Please… 

Love, Tom Brady

June 11th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

You’d think I’d quit sending these by now - but I won’t stop. I’m done dreaming, you’re not waiting for me. That’s okay. It’s not like we have a happily ever after in 1966 anyway. I still feel better knowing you know I’m alive. God knows I’d pray, but that won’t work, no one's ears are on. I miss you. I won’t give up on us, but it’s okay if you have. I will always cherish 1965.

Love always, Tom Brady

July 2nd, 1966

Cas vomited into the trash can beside his desk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He took off his glasses next, wiping the spittle off the lenses. A shiver ran through his body as he placed the thermometer back under his tongue, pushed his glasses back up his nose and got bat to Litigation Procedures and Jury Verdicts, his weary eyes failing to blink away the tired, the fever, 

“Focus.” Castiel grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Cas rubbed at his throat, massaging swollen lymph nodes. He looked to his left, his hand gently caressing the most recent letter from Dean as another shudder ran through him. The sealed envelope a crisp cream. He smiled at the from line, Tom Brady in the same old chicken scratch, he ran his fingers over the indents where Dean pressed a little harder on the address. He’d been waiting to open it, he always waited. Opening the left hand drawer of his desk Cas gingerly pulled out his letter opener. With a swift swipe down the center Cas pulled the letter from the fresh gash between sides of the envelope.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

August 8th, 2021

“Oh my God.” Sam whispered, “Aaron what the hell was that.”

“Dude we’ve done over 30 very invasive surgeries, complications are bound to happen.”

“He almost DIED.”

“Yeah, patients die. Especially human ones like Gabriel here.” he said, frustration taking over his tone, “He’s going to be fine, it’ll just be a little while before we can do the next one.”

“How long is a little while?”

“It’s the last section.”

“Yeah, how long is a little while?”

“Well seeing as we left the spine for last he needs to be in fighting shape to take it.” Aaron said,

“Fine, whatever, just leave me here for a bit.” Sam said, frustration still coating his tone but understanding seeping into his brain. Aaron nodded, leaving the sick bay. Sam pulled up a stool and sat down next to Gabriel, who was still passed out on the blood soaked operating table. “Hey.” Sam said quietly, pausing to clear his throat, “I.” he paused, his throat getting choked up, “I’m sorry.” he whispered, “I’m so sorry we’re doing this to you.” he choked out, tears started falling from his eyes, “Watching you go through this torture, it, it’s been bothering me, and I know why you agreed, I know why you do it, and well, if I said it out loud, that would make it real, and I’m not so sure it can be real right now. I could lose you. And I can’t lose any more family.” he said, a quiet calm overcame him, “we can’t do this right now. Even if you wanted to, we can’t. But. That’s okay. One day, if you wait for me, I’ll wait too, I promise.” he whispered, standing and disrobing his blood soaked scrubs, he ran his palm down Gabriel’s cheek, “I’m sorry.” he whispered, “I want this too.” and with that, Sam left the room.

***

“You’re gonna pop a stitch.” Sam said, eyeing Gabriel who was climbing on the counters to try to get into the cupboards, Gabriel frowned, opting to ignore Sam and continue rifling through the cupboard where Sam used to hide Jack’s sugary cereal - sure it was stale but with some milk you’d never notice. 

“Just get down I’ll do it.” Sam grumbled, Gabe smirked and climbed down,

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” 

“It’s not my panties I’m worried about getting twisted.” he said, helping Gabriel down.

“But you do then admit to wearing panties.”  
“I - shut up or I won’t grab your cereal.”

“Shuttin up Cereal Bitch.” Gabe said with a smirk, patting Sam’s back, Sam rolled his eyes,

“Just go sit down.”

“Will do.” He said, saluting Sam as he walked off. Sam sighed, grabbing Jack’s favorite cereal and pouring it into a bowl, filling the bowl up with milk and grabbing a spoon he wandered over to the couch where he now found Gabriel lying down. 

“Here.” Sam said quietly,

“Thanks Punzie.” he said, Sam scoffed, 

“QUIT FLIRTING” Aaron called from the other room, Gabriel laughed as he watched Sam turn three shades of pink.

“Sit, Samsquatch, take a load off.”

“Sure.” he grumbled, 

“You’d do anything for your brother, wouldn’t you?” he said, “even dealing with my sorry human ass.”  
“Winchesters don’t leave people behind.” he grumbled,

“No, correction, Winchesters don’t leave Winchesters behind.”

“Whatever.”

“You know it’s true.”

“Is not.”  
“Tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice me in a heartbeat if you knew it got your brother back.”

“It won’t.”

“I rest my case.” Sam drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t. He wanted to. He wanted to go on about the value of man and the cost of living, the price of a life, but he couldn’t do it. If he tried, he’d by lying. He sighed, sinking further into the couch. “Sugar cereal?” Gabe offered Sam a bite, Sam frowned, shaking his head no. 

“I won’t ever be impervious to carbs.” he scoffed, Gabriel grinned,

“Sucks to be you!” he laughed, taking a bite.

***

July 18th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

It’s been 229 days since I saw your purdy face, not that I’m counting. What I’m actually counting is the days since pie. Too damn many. Go have a slice at Ernie’s for me. Things have been rough here. The rain never ends and some bug is making its way through camp - don’t really have the medical supplies to treat it so the guys just soldier on. I hope you’re well. Humanity ain’t easy - adulting as the kids will say. We were caught in a minefield yesterday - I won’t bore you with the details just know I’m okay. Would still love to hear from you.

Ever yours, Tom Brady

July 31st, 1966

Cas sighed, wiping more sweat from his brow. What could he even say? Hell he couldn’t tell if he was shaking from the fever, withdrawal, or some shitty combination of both. He needed to get his studying done, he needed a hit or two, he needed Dean, he needed those beautiful green eyes gazing into his bloodshot baby blues, he needed those freckles to trace as he grew weary. Cas sighed, everything was fucked and there was no turning back.

August 5th, 1966

“Sure, yeah I can work the case.” Cas said, a bright smile crossing his pale features,

“You and a team of your peers devised by me will work under my supervision. It will count as credit towards fall quarter. You think you’re up to it?” Professor Willton asked the swaying Castiel,

“Yes sir, I won’t let you down.” Cas said, Professor Willton clamped down on Cas’ shoulder,

“Good lad, now off you go.”

September 8th, 1966

“How does your client plead?”  
“Not-” Cas began, quickly interrupted by projectile vomit forcing itself out of his stomach and onto the podium in front of him. 

“Okay, well, court dismissed. We will reconvene after the room has been cleaned.” the judge said, glaring at Castiel who had admittedly never felt quite so small.

“Hey, James.” Professor Willton said wrapping his arm around the shivering Castiel, “go home.”

“But court is about to re-”

“You’re off the case.” Professor Willton said, his voice turned somber. He pulled Cas’ left arm out, pointing to the tracks lining it, “Marcus told me about your extracurriculars. We’ll try this again when you’re well.” He said somberly. Tears stung, this fresh feeling of intimate pain was something an angel would never be used to. He arrived home to his lonely apartment, and immediately began throwing anything within reach, a mug shattered against the wall, two books went flying, the sound of fluttering pages followed by shattering dishes, and a chair, and - not - a picture of him, and Dean, delicately framed. Cas put it back neatly into its place, folding himself into a ball on the floor.

“OKAY.” He screeched, “OH-FUCKING-KAY.” his fist slammed the floor. “Okay. I’m done.” He yelled, “I QUIT.” he pulled himself up and sought his contraband, throwing it into the trash, “It’s OVER.” He yelled, pulling the liner and taking it barefoot to the dumpster outside. “I QUIT.” He yelled at the large metal bin, as if it would somehow respond to his cries, it didn’t.

***

September 30th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

Man it was good hearing from you.- you had me worried. Well, I mean, an eligible bachelor in ‘Nam - shit could be worse - but who knows what kinda mischief i’da got up to - can’t fuck the future away - hah literally. 

So you said you took our first case but not how it went - what gives? And you said you’ve been ‘unwell but improving’ - the hell does that mean Cas? What happened while you were away? You can trust me. Anyway, it’s good to hear from you love, even if it’s missing some details, I still trust you as always, just don’t go get another man on me… That would be not cool. Anyway, good to hear from ya, really, good to hear from home. Morale around here was getting low, any news from back home is good news. Well. When it comes in the form of love letters anyway… It’s getting dark and I gotta go, but I’ll write again soon.

You do the same… Please...

Much love, Tom Brady

Nov 11th, 2021

“Sam come on, get it together.” Aaron said quietly, his hand resting on Sam’s shoulder, “surgery is a complex thing man, not every one is going to go perfectly.”

“Yeah I realize that but, I almost-”

“But you didn’t.” Aaron cut him off, “and even if you did, I wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“Yeah, I, yeah.” He said quietly,

“Look, I know you’ve lost a lot, I know, but we’re not gonna lose him.” Aaron said, a half smile on his face, “besides, even if we did, he’s an angel, a damn powerful one, and sure he’s trapped right now but hey - we’re working on the jail break right?” Aaron asked, Sam nodded, the frown still imminent on his tired features, 

“I just,”

“You just nothing.” he said sternly, “I’ll stick Samantha on you.” he said, “you will not like that.” 

“Got it.” he said quietly, sniffling lightly.

“Good, come on, we have an angel to patch up.”

“I’m still…” Sam said, looking down at his shaking hands,

“Okay, you stay here, I’ll finish up alone.” he said with a soft smile. “Go rest, Sam.” Aaron said, and Sam, feeling weary and worn, obliged.

December 5th, 2021

“Gabriel, come on I need to check your vitals again.” Aaron said, to an eye roll from Gabe, “Come on, I know you don’t want to deal with this, but you aren’t doing it for me.” Gabe sighed and obliged. “Thank you.” From outside the doorway, a small smile found its way to Sam’s face, he wouldn’t intrude, and he would never tell them he had heard, regardless his heart was doing happy flips in his ribcage.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

November 5th, 1966

Dear Tom, (if that is your real name)

I had a problem, and I dealt with it as I needed to. I’m 2 months free now, and so proud. My humanity is more dear to me than ever before. I lost the first case, because of the aforementioned problem, but I got a new one (case, not problem - my only remaining problem is you.). I am helping Mrs.Baker in her case against Aesop’s Bakery - I won’t bore you with the details but just know I think Sam would be proud. My coursework had taken a bit of a nosedive but I got it back on track. I have also managed to hold down my part time job at this local pizza place - it’s not your type of pie but I do find it rather delicious. So does the gut I’ve managed to garner - don’t leave me for it when you come home. I miss you, there’s a shadow of the places you used to exist that haunt me, even more so now that certain things have been removed from my life. I’ll tell you all about it when you come home, have to keep them wanting more as they say. I’m not good at writing letters, I never had anyone to write for before. I’m sorry it took so long for me to write to you. I’ll make up for it here on out.

Love, Cassie 

***

December 1st, 1966

Castiel waited patiently in the waiting room, messing with the cuffs of his shirt that fell loosely around his arms. His leg bounced rapidly up and down, the pant leg rubbing against the scratchy grey fabric of the waiting room chair. He wiped some sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, the white fabric becoming see through with accumulated sweat. 

“James Miller.” the nurse called and Cas stood, his pants slipping slightly on his waist as he stood. He quickly pulled them up before following the nurse back. “Have a seat.” the nurse said gently, patting the bed in the room. “I’m nurse Penny.” she said, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Castiel’s arm, “I’ll just take a few quick measurements and notes before the doc comes in.” She said with a professional smile. Cas nodded, fiddling with his fingers.

“So what seems to be the problem.” nurse Penny asked, looking into Castiel’s ear, 

“Well, nurse,” he started, “Something seems to be wrong with my v- my body. I have been inexplicably dropping weight, most nights I’ll end up in a sweat, and I-” he paused to cough, “I have these awful sores in my mouth.” he finished up, the nurse just nodded and hummed. 

“Okay sweetie open up.” she said, sticking a thermometer under his tongue, taking notes of what he’d mentioned,

“No sudden changes to diet or activity level?” She asked, gazing up at him, he shook his head no. “Alright, and slight fever.” she said taking the thermometer back, “okay sweetie, the doctor will be in shortly, just sit tight.” she said with a smile. 

***

December 10th, 1966

Dear Cassie,

I’m coming home. Honorably discharged even! Turns out when the dumbass rookie next to you steps on a landmine next to a metal barricade - that metal will likely go flying and end up in your femoral artery! Well. That’s a bitch to repair, I’d imagine even back home, ya know, home home. So I’m missing my left leg - can’t have crips on the battle ground - so I’m coming home. I’ll miss the war, if I’m being honest it was the closest thing to home I’ve had since we got here, but I’m ready to be with you again. When I get better and back into the apartment things’ll be better again. Enclosed is the address of the hospital they’re sending me too, they got me stable enough to teleport and I’m actually writing this on the helicopter home (how cool is that?!). Anyway. I love you . I’ll see you soon. Don’t forget, we have an appointment.

Much Love, Tom Brady (a.k.a. The newest cripple [in love])

December 15th, 1966

“James sweetie, you have mail.” the nurse said, looking to Cas who was laying in bed, 

“Thank you Malinda.” He said quietly, reaching to take the opened envelope from her. He began to read, squinting at the page, “Malinda, I need to request a transfer.”

“Okay sweetie, could take about a week.”

“Malinda. It needs to be now.” 

December 17th, 1966

“Okay James, here is your new room and your new roommate.” the nurse said, wheeling Castiel into Tom Brady’s room. Dean was asleep in his bed when they placed Castiel into his. 

“Thank you, Hannah, but please, call me Casti-”he paused to cough roughly into his arm, “Castiel.”

“Okay hon. Can do.” she said with a small smile. Cas smiled back. “If that gets too bad we’ll have to isolate you.” she said, noting the cough, Cas nodded, his face falling slightly,

“It won’t.” 

“Good boy.” she said quietly, walking out of the room. Constantly exhausted, all Cas wanted was Dean, to hold him, to be held by him, to be beside him, to kiss him, he couldn’t do those things here, so watching as he slept would have to do. He’d done this a million times before, though it was never quite as tragic as it felt right now. Cas sighed, turning on the TV quietly; watching the newscasters complain about crime rates in the city rising and how goods costs are much too high for consumer ability. Cas closed his eyes for what only seemed to him to be a moment, but when he opened them again the sun had set outside the window and the brightest thing in the room were Dean’s beautiful green eyes that seemed so broken he couldn’t comprehend.

“Castiel.” Dean said quietly, his gaze never wavering, his voice bouncing with pain. “What the hell?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with a deep longing and an equally matched deep pain.

“Dean.” he said quietly, not really able to respond.

“What the hell happened to you.” he whispered, his voice catching the barbs threatening to rise in his throat, 

“Well, the doctors are unsure.” he said quietly, not meeting Dean’s gaze,

“But you are. Sure that is.” Dean said quietly, swallowing another wave of pain.

“I take it you just woke up as well.” Cas said quietly, attempting to move the subject, 

“Cas.” he said quietly, “what the hell happened.”

“Well, I guess I should start at the beginning.” he said, another cough wracking his chest,

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Dean said quietly, Cas glared at him, 

“A little late for that.” he said quietly, Dean was silenced, Cas sighed, “show me.”

“What?”

“Your leg.” Cas said, Dean sighed, carefully removing the blankets to show his left leg, half missing and buried in clean white bandages. 

“Okay. Tell me, the hell happened - now.” he said sternly 

“Okay.” Cas sighed, “when you left, things were hard, I was managing. School and working and the household - it was difficult to maintain but I was able. But then classmates started inviting me out, at first it was just for drinks, but they began to offer further drugs, marijuana, LSD, cocaine, and that was all fun and games, but then came Heroin. At first it was great, it took this edge off, and humanity - all it is, is edges. But then it was addictive, and controlling, and expensive. It lost me that case, or rather I lost that case because of the abuse. Admittedly that was the least of my worries. In the worst of my addiction, in the throes and the trenches, it didn’t matter where it came from, as long as I could successfully garner a fix. I did that with found needles, and questionable sources. It seems one of them was contaminated. I thought I got away with it all, I kicked the addiction, I got back on track, but it appears I still miss stepped.” Cas said quietly,

“Contaminated with?”

“Human Immunodeficiency Virus.” he said softly, “not that these doctors know that yet. They’re stumped with me.” Cas said quietly, “they don’t know yet what’s to come. They don’t know what the next few years hold, the tragedy, the loss.” he said, for the first time in their relationship he seemed to be the ancient cosmic being he truly was. 

“Cas.” Dean said quietly,

“I know, Dean. Our time here is limited so can we quit with the judging me now?” He asked quietly, another cough wracking his body,

“Okay, easy. Easy. How long has it been like this?”

“I’ve been deteriorating for the past month.” he said quietly. 

“A month. And you didn’t tell me?”

“Didn’t have the chance.” Cas said somberly, “it’s hard to write to your male counterpart under the noses of nurses in the 1960s.” Cas grumbled, 

“Right.”  
“Especially when it would’ve had major consequences for you had my gender been discerned.”

“Right.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

January 26th, 2022

“Okay Sam, this should be the last one.” Aaron said, as he began to open up the base of Gabriel’s neck. The Angel looked akin to Frankenstein’s monster these days, stitching covering the majority of his frail body - frail from lack of movement and inability to rip stitches. Taking it slow Aaron carefully went over the slice again. He pulled out the laser and began work on the bone, shaving as carefully as possible, Sam watched Aaron, focused on the tiny movements he made on Gabriel’s exposed spine. 

“I, I think that’s all of it.” Aaron said quietly, getting closer to examine his neck once again, and all of a sudden out of nowhere a rainbow shimmer spread through the room, Aaron was too close to see what it was, but Sam could see it tracing the shape of angel wings from his viewpoint.

“Aaron, Aaron, we got him.” He said happily, almost jumping with the pure delight coursing through his veins, the euphoria he felt was something akin to the feeling that drinking demon blood used to give him, he was on a cloud. 

“What?” Aaron asked, 

“We got him,” he said, on the verge of tears, “those were wings damnit.” he laughed, 

“Wings?!” Aaron asked again, 

“Wings.” Sam said with a smile, “Goddamn wings. We have an Archangel.” 

“We fucking got him.” Aaron laughed, “okay, okay, we need to focus.” 

“I, yeah, okay.” Sam said, a mix between a laugh and a cough escaping as he wiped tears from his cheeks. 

“Come on.” he said, “Until Gabe wakes up he can’t heal this so we need to stitch him back together before we can let the anesthesia wear off. He’s still as good as human if he doesn’t wake up to heal.”

“Okay sure.” Sam said, passing the needle and threat to Aaron who carefully began work on his neck. Aaron worked as carefully as ever, ensuring every stitch was correct before giving Sam a satisfactory nod and smile. 

“Okay Sam,” Aaron said with a grin, pulling the mask off of Gabriel’s face, “when he wakes up, we bring your brother back.” Sam grinned, “go scrub down and shower, you don’t want the first thing Dean sees when he gets home is you lookin’ like that.” Aaron laughed, Sam laughed with him

“Fine, but It’s gonna be quick.” he said, bounding out of the room. Aaron sighed, 

“Okay Gabe,” he said, pushing him gently onto his back, “this’ll be the greatest damn achievement of my life, and the medical world will never know, you owe me for this. You better damn well remember this.” Gabriel didn’t respond, Aaron didn’t expect him to.

Sam had only been gone fifteen minutes when he came bounding back into the sick bay, nearly colliding with Aaron on entry. An inch from each other Aaron and Sam froze, immediately stepping back. 

“Awkward, okay, hi Sam.” Aaron said as Sam exited his personal space and crossed his arms, 

“Sorry.” he said sheepishly, “Is he…?”

“Still out.” Aaron said, Sam frowned,

“Normally it’s not this long.” he said quietly, and that was the truth, normally Gabriel was up within ten minutes of the removal of the anesthesia, not this time. His sleeping features remained undisturbed and distinctly and unremarkably human. 

“Normally he’s not rebooting to full power. This might take a while.”

“Oh.”

“It makes sense from a medical perspective.” Aaron said, “come on, let’s let him rest. I can explain the medical science behind rest periods and healing but I think it’s pretty self explanatory.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam said quietly, the two wandered off to wait. For the next 24 hours Gabriel remained in a coma like state, immobile on the operating table, still alive and breathing - Sam made sure every few hours - but comatose. Unmoving save the rise and fall of his bare chest. They had wrapped his body in a blanket to keep him warm, but otherwise left the angel undisturbed. 

“We give him time.” was Aaron’s consistent response, much to Sam’s impatient frustration. He had already given so much time, he could almost feel it, his brother home, calling him Bitch, yelling at him for taking his beer, grumpy and brooding and his one and only big brother who he missed like the jerk he was. On the second day, Sam had decided that was it. He quickly marched into the sick bay and grabbed Gabriel, hoisting him and carried his limp body to the mapping table. He laid him down gently, careful to adjust him in a way that his limbs wouldn’t be in pain if he woke.

December 23rd, 1966

“Cas.” Dean said quietly, rubbing his hand over Cas’ frail fingers, “Come on man, what am I gonna do here without you?” he whispered, “just keep holdin’ on, for me.” Dean said quietly, tears rolling down his cheeks. The solitary room was lonely, the beeping of the EKG, the IV drip and cannula bringing the whole thing together, “you’re supposed to be my angel, but not like this.” he said quietly, sucking in a pained breath, Dean could wrap his hand around Cas’ forearm now without effort, his usual pale skin tone had turned translucent, Dean sighed, he’d looked bad on arrival, but had deteriorated quickly with the nurses all completely stumped on how to fix him.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas rasped, a cough shaking his entire body,

“Hey, I’m here.” He whispered quietly, tears in his eyes, carefully maneuvering on his crutches he reached down to touch Cas’ face.

“No, Vietnam.” he rasped, his chest rattling desperately with every breath.

“No, Cas, here. Right here.” Dean said, touching his cool skin. “I’m right-” Dean was cut off as light began swirling around him, his eyes rolled back into his head and the world was dark.

January 28th, 2022

“Okay Gabe, if you won’t wake up, I’m going to figure out how to marionette this bitch.” he hissed, it wasn’t the fault of Gabriel, but in a frustrated rage Sam had lost all patience, sympathy, his humanity had left the building around hour 20. He paused, thinking for a moment, he saw where the wings had attached, he traced lines on Gabriel’s back where he remembered them to be. “Okay, they’re just in another plane, right, okay, so how do I get them here.” he said aloud, ‘well, okay, they must attach somewhere, right? Right. So.” he paused, “I’ve got it.” he whispered, taking a knife from the pocket of his jeans and began slicing at Gabe’s back, 

“Come on, they have to be here somewhere!” he growled, 

“SAM, the HELL do you think you’re doing?!” Aaron yelled, storming into the room fists balled as he watched the destruction of the body of his patient, as he entered the room Sam hit the sweet spot and another rainbow pulse began to trace the wings. It was beautiful, but from where Aaron was standing the wings being traced seemed massively damaged -not that it mattered to Sam who had a crazed look in his eyes,

“OH NO YOU DON’T” he yelled, grabbing the rainbow shimmers - freezing them in place on the wings. Sam squeezed, and somehow he managed to harness the wings, in an instant Castiel first, then Dean, then Ketch materialized on the bunker floor in front of him. Sam threw the bloody knife aside, tossing Gabriel’s bleeding and limp body aide.

*** 

Dean’s head throbbed, he could feel himself on top of something soft, his eyes opened to find Castiel beneath him, struggling to breathe with the missing cannula.

“Cas, Cas, Cas, come on, breathe god damnit.” Dean said, attempting not to panic as he got off the top of him and began performing CPR.

“Dean?” a confused voice said from behind him, Dean paused and looked up from the CPR he was performing,

“S-Sam?” Dean stuttered, looking behind him. From where he was atop Castiel he was surrounded by Ketch looking furious in an officer’s uniform, Gabriel covered in blood on the mapping table, Aaron angrily in the corner of the room shaking slightly, and Sam, who looked like he’d aged ten years. He was looking guiltily down at Gabriel who looked like Frankenstein’s Monster on the table - covered in stitches in varying degrees of healing.

“Oh my God” Dean whispered, “Cas, we’re home.” Castiel didn’t respond.


End file.
